Seven woke up to his flatscreen buzzing at his bedside. He groaned, not because of the massive headache he expected to have after a night full of drinking, but because of his sore body.

  Haven’t been this sore since the last time I trained with father’s guards…

  He was slow to sit up, but the more he moved the better he felt.

  He looked at the time on the face of his flatscreen as his father’s face came into view. The face of his father projected above the device with a squinted gaze that made Seven feel he was moments away from being disciplined. He sighed and waved a hand through the air to answer the call.

  “Hello, Father.”

  “Hello, child, you look refreshed, I haven’t seen you look this stress-free in a season cycle or more. Did something good happen, a bet pay off, maybe?”

  Images of the previous night pressed to the forefront of his mind and Seven unintentionally smiled. Vivid’s forested eyes painted in his memories like that of a portrait he painted himself from memory. Until the moment he remembered placing bets, bets that equaled his entire grown fortune across his entire life.

  Bloody sparks, Seven, what have you done…!

  Seven picked up his flatscreen in a panic, checking his favorite sports betting app, freezing. His eyes widened at the number displayed, his father repeating his name over and over as Seven dropped his flatscreen.

  Holy bloody sparks…!

  “Holy bloody sparks,” said a voice as arms were wrapped around Seven’s waist from behind. Seven jumped in alarm, yelling in terror until he saw Vivid’s green eyes, the young mortal smirking at him over his shoulder. The only item covering her beautiful voluptuousness, the ascension cotton sheets of his bed.

  Seven’s heart began to race at her smile, remembering his father was still on the phone, only after the door of his hotel sweet was kicked in by guards hired to protect him.

  “Young master, are you okay,” yelled Seven’s head guard, Zion. The man’s serious gaze falling on Vivid as she scrambled to stay behind Seven at the sight of the men and woman rushing into the room wearing combat gear and wielding assault rifles.

  Seven frowned and Zion turned around, his grey eyes widening at the sight of the smiling Vivid as she pulled more of the covers around herself.

  Zion raised his arms to stop more of the guard team from entering. The man’s grey military buzz cut all that Seven could see, but he could tell that the man wore a smile as he spoke to the others on his defense team.

  “Move it, people, false alarm. I’m sure that the young master doesn’t want us bothering him.”

  “Don’t forget your father, cutie, he’s still on the phone,” said Vivid, picking up the device and placing it on his lap while she whispered in his ear.

  “Thanks,” grumbled Seven, knowing that his father most likely pressed the panic button the moment that his son dropped his device.

  “It seems you are fine,” said Seven’s father, clearing his throat, giving a slight nod in Vivid’s direction as she smiled at him.

  “Yeah, sorry about that, just landed on a bit of a windfall and didn’t expect it, were you calling for something specific?”

  “You said you wanted to see more of what your father does for a living, so I thought I would call and invite you to join me, but it seems you are impressing your friend with your new wealth,” said his father with a laugh.

  Seven looked back at Vivid, seeing the young woman smirking at him. More of his memories jumped to the surface of his mind in that moment. The most prominent being that the young mortal woman was bored.

  Bored because she’d made so much money bartending at the clubs in RaidCorp’s Coliseum, that she eventually bought an establishment. After a few season cycles of lavishly living in luxury, she now taught herself bartending tricks in her own club, living worry free off the percentages made by the gamers and gamblers her bar hosted.

  “Doubtful,” said Seven, shaking his head as he chuckled at Vivid’s simple shrug.

  “I’ll leave you to your bonding time, cutie, are we still on for later?”

  Seven nodded, and Vivid smiled before pecking him on the cheek and rising to leave the room; gladly taking his sheet with her, leaving him naked as the day he was born to talk to his father.

  “So what’s up pops, how long do I have to get ready?”

  “You’re late. Meet me down stairs as soon as you are dressed.”

  “Business or battle?”

  “A bit of both, dress as if you are prepared for both.”

  It didn’t take Seven long to get ready. He quickly put on an all black suit, with armor plated fingerless gloves. The sections between the plates lined with red mana stones, that flickered with a crimson light from the sanguine affinity within.

  Seven prepared himself to walk, knowing how his father operated, only to be surprised by Zion opening the door of a strangely familiar limousine. The hovercraft quickly becoming one of the most recognized purchases amongst the affluent HonorBorn families.

  “Took you long enough, boy,” said Alister as his sone sat down.

  “Yeah, yeah, I apologize, catch me up pops, what’s with all the prim?”

  Seven gestured at the interior of the spatially enlarged limousines; father and son practically sitting within an entire limousine.

  “Oh this, I’m trying to get the company that owns these to sell me one, or the company as a whole, but they only seem to be comfortable with renting this to me on a continued contractual basis,” said Alister frowning.

  “What’s wrong with that, seems like you own it at that point, what’s the difference?”

  “You know the difference, son, it’s the bloody—:

  “Payments,” finished Seven for his father.

  “It’s always about the bloody payments with you, Pops.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I’m glad to see my teachings aren’t wasted on you, boy, now listen up,” started Alister, unbuttoning his bleach white suit before sitting back on the couch across from Seven. A maid set down two tea glasses in front of the pair as the limousine silently lifted off, rising into the air as smoothly as if it were a toy picked up off the ground by a giant, treating the vehicle with the same care as individuals with obsessions building models.

  “For the continued growth of my plans, I need to slow down the progression of this BlackHole Conglomerate run by your former siblings,” said Alister staring down Seven, his eyes analyzing his every movement; Seven staying absolutely still as the man read his body language.

  “What was once a thorn, is quickly becoming a spear…”

  How hard was that for you to admit I wonder, father…?

  “What could they possibly be doing that has you even the slightest bit frazzled, father?”

  “Do you know how much of my fortune used to be tied up in recycling, son?” asked Alister, answering his son’s question with one of his own.

  “Not truly, I didn’t even know you were in the business at all until we approached that Cultivator recently, the Jade of CloudLake City.”

  Seven spoke as if he was unfamiliar with Jade, knowing that he’d started much of his meager betting ring at the orphanage as a youngster off the back of the professional dungeon ball player. He knew his father had issue with the powerful Cultivator, but where that problem began and why, Seven was without even a hint.

  “That is because after I rose, I set those goals aside temporarily, however that was a result of missing a few key pieces to truly capitalize, key pieces that your little friends now have…”

  “And that is?”

  “Matter Manipulation, this is the highest form of Cultivation known to the realms, and is truly only accessible to a rare few underneath the Heavens.”

  “Ha, seriously, the gift to create anything from nothing, like in fairytales, I’d have to see that to believe it,” said Seven with a laugh, until his father narrowed his brow at him.

  “This is no laughing matter boy, do you not find the production power of a handful of orphans to be absolutely absurd? Have you ever seen anyone beside these youngsters grow anything so quickly from ground zero? I adopted you rather young, and pulled you into the world of wealth and power, since then have you come across even a group of your peers or my own with the same level of resources as them?”

  Beside Almarine, thought Seven, no…

  He shook his head, and his father nodded, sipping from the steaming tea. He watched his father look out the window of the flying vehicle and back toward him sighing heavily.

  “This is hard for me to admit, but if that boy was anyone else’s child I more than likely would have killed him already, but Jade’s mind and power makes her practically immune to my own abilities.”

  He must be talking about Arson. I wonder if dad has seen the new guy Arson and his people scouted? The real reason Seven had taken what his father felt to be a long time getting ready was that though Seven had indeed been rushing, he’d also been distracted by a flurry of notifications.

  He’d put out a web filter on the Holo-Web attached to the name Carter Gestalt, and woken up to quite a long list of new social posts tagging Seven, directing him to the young Cultivator’s activities.

  Carter Gestalt was the newest member of the BHC, as well as Cro of something called the Pocket Apartment Gang. Coincidentally both were what had lead him to wake up largely more well off than he ever had been. His bets on their events cashing out beautifully.

  Let’s just keep that to ourselves, Seven…

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “I thought you’d never ask, son, we are going to do what are family is known for,” said Alister, lifting a hand and waving it dismissively through the air.

  “Wash them away and rewrite history.”

  …

  Seven stood outside a rather nice penthouse. His father had walked inside earlier, and all that Seven had heard since was the sounds of a defenseless struggle.

  His father needed something from the gang that occupied the entirety of the building they’d landed atop. Seven thought he’d have to help his father fight through the building, only for them to walk down a single flight of stairs and his father to walk into the penthouse unhindered in any way, shape or form.

  Seven had luckily gotten a taste of the action after some sort of silent alarm was triggered. Which directed Seven to believe that he may end up having to fight the building filled with gang members himself.

  After ten gang members found themselves knocked out and bleeding at his feet, no others walked up the steps.

  Maybe the alarm only rang on the floor below?

  He sighed heavily, deciding to peek into the open door, finding himself bored as his flatscreen rang softly in his interior jacket pocket.

  He pulled the device out, trying to fix his hair as he saw Vivid’s face projected from the surface of his phone.

  “Hey you, how is it going, you at the bar?”

  Vivid rolled her eyes and nodded, smirking in a way that was quickly becoming familiar.

  “What did I do, what’s so funny, is there something on my face, maybe some food stuck between my teeth?”

  Seven playfully picked at his perfectly white teeth, knowing that his pearly smile was more than likely perfect.

  “No silly, you got it the first time, you got a bit of blood on your left cheek,” said Vivid still smirking.

  “Oh…”

  He wiped at his face with his sleeve, smiling awkwardly. A noise drawing his attention.

  His gaze entered the penthouse just in time to see his father spin through the air, kicking a man in the jaw. The man’s teeth spurting out the man’s mouth with such force that another female guard that tried to rush Alister from the side was caught in the eye with one of the fangs. Seven closed the door slowly, not wanting Vivid to hear the screams, wincing at the woman scrambling to pick a dislodged molar from the side of her face.

  “Sorry about that, I umm really am nervous that my life is going to push you away, and am afraid to ask—“

  “If we are still on for later? Of course, cutie,” said Vivid cutting him off.

  “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t one of those idiots I had to contemplate hiring a contract killer for, I don’t do one night stands.”

  Seven’s eyes widened, and Vivid blew him a kiss, smirking at him as she winked and hung up the call.

  “Hmm, am I in love… better question, is she crazy?”

  …

  “Do you know what a kakistocracy is,” asked Alister Kim. The man he held was normally quite confident when speaking, which Alister knew to be a result of the gangsters long life of leadership and lack of challenge from the elite underground of his lower realm.

  How you got here I will never know.

  “No sir, I do not,” said the man. He glanced over the edge of his chair, sweat dripping off his chin to nearly land on his designer suit. The drop instead fell like rain, traveling floor by floor toward the pavement below.

  Alister shook the man’s chair. A chair he held upright over the edge of the balcony of the man’s lavish penthouse. The young gangster’s gaze immediately returned to Alister’s own, and Kim smiled.

  “It is a society run by what is considered to be the worst of us, the weakest or meek, or even the most despicable and undeserving of us all.”

  “I see…”

  “Most of the civilizations within the Cultivation realms believe that we have given power to those who deserve power, a meritocracy. Do you believe that to be true from what you have experienced?”

  The man looked over the edge, down at himself, and then back toward Alister in a moment of thought, seemingly thinking over every decision he’d made that brought him to his current circumstance.

  “Until this very moment, maybe not, I’ve risen to power even being wheelchair bound from an early age, but life has its ways of showing you its truths simply, and this moment seems to speak for itself, don’t you believe so?”

  “I do,” said Alister with a chuckle.

  “I do indeed, but I need you to understand something else in this moment, and that is there are always exceptions, and you are one of those exceptions, I’m sure you are already aware of this to a certain degree, I mean look around you, can’t you see the majesty in the dynasty that you have carved out for yourself here?”

  Alister extended his arm behind himself, slowly gesturing toward the interior of the man’s penthouse.

  The beautifully furnished interior was disheveled. The body of the man’s guards lay about, beaten, bloody, and broken. Blood was on every surface possible, even dripping from multiple chandeliers, that were still swinging but now were draped with the bodies of men sworn to protect their leader.

  It pooled on the floor under some who died during the invasion. It even painted the still flickering wall screen. Yet the man couldn’t help but notice that not a drop of blood was anywhere on Alister, not even his ungloved knuckles. The pair of white silk gloves folded neatly in the jacket pocket of the man’s all white suit.

  Alister stopped his slow spin, once more leaving the man helplessly sitting above nothing, held in a state of peril that the man assumed would end in his own death. Destined to plummet and splatter on the vacationing pedestrians that walked below.

  They were so high up that the man could barely see the people below, and he knew from many of the stories his men and women often shared, most never looked up. Unless the sky itself shifted toward darkness with the threat of danger.

  None will run unless the sky itself drops to weigh the shoulders of mortals down with its might, thought the man, oddly enough looking upward rather than down. The gesture alone enough to make Alister feel heard.

  “You seem to understand, which is why I need something from you, what is your name again, I heard your people screaming it a few times, but it honestly escapes me?”

  “My name is Honzo.”

  Honzo didn’t look down until he finished speaking his name, wondering if the man before him truly needed something from him, or was trying to give him hope as he searched for answers from Honzo before dropping him to his death.

  “Nice to meet you,Honzo, I am Kim, believe it or not but our family’s once regarded each other as allies, partners even, which is what I need from you now, to resume that partnership.”

  Honzo squinted at Alister, knowing only one family that his own had ever claimed to associate with, but they’d died off long ago, well before Honzo’s own family ever began to ascend the realms. Yet with the subtle shake of the chair Alister had set him in, he focused on the now, forgetting the past until he had a moment to think with a settled heartbeat and an effort of meditation to wash away the screams of his gang being trampled.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Honzo shook his head, causing Alister to chuckle once more before he spoke, setting the chair down on the balcony before he rested his hands on Honzo’s shoulders and lowered his head to look him in the eyes directly.

  “What your family has always done, be the weapon of our enemies demise…”

  …

  “Sorry I’m late,” said Arson as he walked into the conference room. The builders were all on their feet with the exception of Troy. Who sat with her arms crossed and her feet kicked up on the table.

  Arson looked over his shoulder to see the wall screen, displaying an Interview being had between Lane and Micro. Arson frowned, not knowing anything about any kind of interview planned between the pair.

  Watching a moment in confusion as a Propeller Palm Drone flew behind Micro as she ran through a darkened street, while a hologram of Lane was projected from the drone following behind Micro as she rushed about, Arson glanced between his standing friends and Troy.

  “Do I even want to ask,” whispered Arson. When Troy didn’t answer him, Arson’s heart raced for the first time in what Arson felt to be season cycles.

  “Everything okay?”

  Troy stayed silent.

  “So if I had to be honest with you, I’m not going to settle for anyone, especially if they can’t beat me in a fight.”

  Arson looked at the screen as Micro spoke for the first time since he entered the room, hearing words that he dreaded hearing since he returned from Endless.

  “So is there anyone that you believe fits that mold, anyone you are interested in, the fans of the BHC family honestly would love to know, it is one of our highest asked question in the stream chat thus far since we went live.”

  “Hmm, I know your fishing for your boss, but let’s be honest, me and Troy are going to have to work this out ourselves, she wants him, but until I feel like she’s worthy, I’m going to shoot my shot…”

  Micro stopped, and with a nearly invisible strike, cleaved cleanly through the drone following her, cutting the broadcast off in an instant.

  It wasn’t until that very moment that Troy looked away from the screen and faced Arson.

  “Anything you want to tell me…”