'Tracks,' said Pal in a low voice.

Nicolai nodded. Footprints and disturbed undergrowth showed the direction the group of Cultivators had headed. Based on the scale there had been quite a few. No less than ten, no more than fifteen.

One wrapped in a shimmer poncho, the other active-camouflage, they crept silently through the brush.

Several minutes later Nicolai raised a hand, outside his poncho so Pal could see. Pal halted, and Nicolai made out the shape of his head looking over questioningly. Threat Analysis had detected something. Its analysis of sub-surface ripples, still echoing almost imperceptibly from the trees, suggested that a number of Symbiotes relating to hiding, silence, shadow, and movement, had been used in the hundred-odd metres ahead of them perhaps five minutes ago.

From this close distance, he was still able to communicate with Pal, even through the jamming. He did so, sharing what he suspected. After only moments, they agreed on a plan.

Nicolai went right, Pal left. Their Souls were shelled, Nicolai's Lurker and Pal's equivalent engaged, camouflage and shimmer poncho active.

He utilised his bionic eye's thermal vision and the world turned black and white. The occasional chunks of rocks were dark and cold. The earth a dull grey. The trees, slightly warmer than their surroundings, were just barely lighter.

The white-heat of a hyped up, sweaty Cultivator all but burned against this backdrop. He was crouched down and barely moving where he was positioned, on a wide branch of a tall tree.

It seemed that their understanding of Earth tech still had some significant gaps. Observing with his human eye, there was no one there. He saw no Soul Sense and Threat Analysis detected no ripples. This individual had some kind of invisibility Symbiote. Alas, it didn't do anything in the infrared spectrum.

'Contact,' he told Pal, punching a feed of what he saw through the Local disturbance.

The man gave a brief affirmation, and moments later reported his own, with his own feed. Another Cultivator, invisible—at least in terms of normal light—on a branch above.

Nicolai took up position behind a tree, out of the Cultivator's view, then took a small drone off of its hook. He pulled a tab connected to an extremely small, fine wire out of its back. After a brief resistance the spool came free and it drew out easily. He carefully, slowly, put the drone into a place where it had a view around the corner, at the Cultivator. It had sharp little legs that dug into the ground. Then he moved back and away, keeping the tree between him and the Cultivator. The wire slid over the ground after him.

After some time he turned and continued through the forest, plugging the wire into his skinsuit at the wrist, poking his hand out through his ponchos flaps.

Through that wire he gained a hardware connection to the drone, and was able to keep eyes on the Cultivator. He was pretty sure there was a 3rd one, out here somewhere.

He kept moving, and his connection with Pal grew increasingly fuzzy.

'Wait until you hear my shot, make your move then,' he directed. Pal gave an affirmation, and they parted ways over Local.

Following a few minutes more hunting around, he found another Cultivator. This one was lying in the bush, and based on Threat Analysis' calculations, should be the last of these silent sentries.

After getting round behind the guy Nicolai simply stepped silently forward, until he stood right behind the Cultivator. As the man had his Soul Sense shelled, he wouldn't be able to look behind him.

He took aim, the gun pointing straight into the bush.

The boom of its gunshot obliterated the tense silence of the jungle like a car bomb in a street at night. The muzzle lit up with light and heat, the bush flinched as the shockwaves from torn air hit it in a wave.

And within the bush there was a burst of Oma from a broken shield. Nicolai fired again and couldn't help but grimace at the lack of blood. Just a flash of blue light, and the Cultivator was gone from the Tournament. Somehow wrong, that.

Pal's own shots came from a distance, full-auto, and they continued. Nicolai knew that a Cultivator being attacked in surprise by an assault rifle had little chance. 7.62 rounds had a lot of energy. A shield couldn't soak them for long before it broke. His expectations were confirmed when the shots ended. The Cultivator was done—or, Pal had failed.

It didn't matter. He had another target.

Through the wire connecting him to the drone he'd placed, he saw through its thermal camera. Not as good as his bionic eye, but good enough.

The Cultivator had straightened and now stared in the direction of Pal's gunshots. The white-hot shape appeared uncertain.

Nicolai settled onto one knee and with the aid of his bionic arm, held the long and heavy M99 completely still.

He gazed through its scope into a mess of a greenery, trees and branches and leaves, all zoomed in to the point of ridiculousness.

But that was just background noise. Stamped over it all was a red, human shaped outline. The Cultivator.

Simulations knew the exact position of the drone, and through that the Cultivator. It knew the exact route he had taken. It knew exactly where he now stood, and of his bionic eye peering through the scope.

With all that, it generated an AR overlay that showed the precise position. Nicolai didn't truly need that as he was linked directly with the Module, a mind-merge, but it was nice to be able to line the sights up with the red outlines centre-of-mass.

He squeezed the trigger.

Through the drone camera he saw twinned flashes. A vague, shimmery burst of light—the shield being broken, which apparently was visible, though much less dramatically, even without a Cultivator's eyes—and the brighter blue clap as the Cultivator was removed from the Tournament. The man had had a weak shield, not even up to soaking one shot.

The drone hummed into the air and wound its way through the trees, retracting its ultra-thin fibre-optic cable as it went. It passed by him and continued on, moving in the direction he was silently and near-invisibly moving—towards where Pal should be.

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He'd decided to keep making use of this drone just for now. It wouldn't be ideal when generally moving, as seeing it would tip off Cultivators or others ahead of him that he was coming. But, Pal already knew he was coming. With it he analysed the way ahead of him.

It wasn't easy to spot someone with active-camouflage, crouching entirely still and silent between a bush and a tree.

Pal knew all about thermal. He wore a mask that stopped the puff of his breath from betraying him, and his head was tilted so his hood covered his face. Totally still, his active camouflage didn't even give the faint shimmers that Nicolai's poncho might've—and of course, it normalised its temperature to match its surroundings. The poncho could do that, too, but it was slow to normalise and doing so would use up a lot of its power.

But Nicolai knew Pal was there only moments after the drone had hummed past the man. This was because there were always signs, which in some cases went all the way back to the fundamentals of stealth, something that many from Earth's latest generation, so used to their high-tech gadgets, had a tendency of forgetting about.

It was a scuff in the grass two feet away, where a boot had made an abrupt movement when Pal opted to duck down an hide, that betrayed him. With the knowledge he'd been there, Simulations and Threat Analysis had carefully examined the area and worked out his precise position via various minor, barely noticeable discrepancies.

Nicolai stopped just feet away from the man. He peered around, knowing that he was entirely visible in thermal.

'Where are you?' he spoke over Local, putting a trace of irritation into his tone.

After a moment, Pal rose.

'Right here,' the man said, and Nicolai could feel the self-satisfaction at those words.

Nicolai made no sign of surprise at his abrupt appearance, but in a way that made it seemed like he was surprised and trying hard to hide that surprise.

'You got your target?' he asked needlessly, as his drone returned to him. He unplugged its wire from his skinsuit and replaced it on its hook.

'Of course. And you?'

'Of course.' Nicolai paused, before adding, smugly, 'Both of them.'

Pal snorted. 'Let's get moving, then.'

Nicolai nodded, and so they did, resuming their stealth. He was very pleased with all that he'd learned, and the impression he'd given.

To start with, he'd learned that Pal was good. Not the best, but pretty good. He knew how to move, how to hide, how to shoot. Despite that, he wasn't a true threat. Not on his own. But if his companion was equally good, he might be. Therefore Nicolai had decided not to eliminate him now. Pal and Jex had no reason to suspect he had something like Cyberwarfare, capable of giving him access to their communications. With that edge, he'd be able to engineer an easy method to remove the pair—but not if he eliminated Pal now.

Beyond that, the fact that Pal had revealed himself instead of taking the chance, Nicolai's "moment of weakness," showed that his companion was not near—and also, that without her he did not have the confidence to try anything on his own. That had been an apparently free shot, and he hadn't taken it.

Therefore, Nicolai could rely on him not to try anything stupid as they made their way through the area, and Pal could thus be useful as a temporarily ally-slash-distraction, in the event he encountered real trouble.

Nicolai's apparent failure to spot Pal should also reassure the man that if he did "everything right" as he doubtless felt he had, he could successfully remain hidden from Nicolai. Finally, his one-upmanship with "both of them" gave the impression he had an ego—which perhaps, Pal could manipulate.

Whether all of these misdirections and actions would even be necessary in the end, he couldn't say. But it was his way to give them wherever he could. To stack the deck in his favour every possible chance.

###

Nara Xuejing gazed levelly at Zixiao, while remaining aware of all the others around her with her Soul Sense. They all stood in a loose circle, the weaker on the outside, stronger on the in.

'…and once we have dealt with everyone out there,' Zixiao continued, his creased eyes twinkling and his wide, kindly smile radiating out upon them, 'only we shall remain! Thus, all who stand here with me, my friends and allies, will be assured to go on and gain from this Tournament!'

The surrounding Cultivators nodded thoughtfully, some even applauded. Xuejing did not join in. Instead, she took a quick count.

There were thirty-six of them here.

This Free For All would only end when that number of contestants remaining reached thirty-two.

Thus, four had to go.

She eyed Zixiao, who felt her gaze and gave her a different flavour of smile, one that made her skin prickle with disgust. He was not an attractive figure. One could have said he was frog-like. A wide face, overlarge eyes and mouth. Based on what she'd learned and seen, his exterior was an accurate reflection of his interior. And yet, somehow, none of these could sense the stink of his foul desires, the miserable rot at his core.

She could. Every time his eyes touched on her body, every time his Soul Sense brushed her own. She wanted nothing more than to lunge, before any could react, and spear him through the heart.

But that was not possible. These Cultivators would aid him, not her. They respected her clan, but she had never been much good at becoming friendly with people. Ever since birth she had been told to keep a cool outlook, to watch others with suspicion, trust no one who was not Nara. People said they were cold, aloof, and dangerous. The reputation was not unearned.

There were times she wondered if she could be different, but she simply didn't know how. Gazing expressionlessly at Zixiao, she reflected that killing him here wouldn't end his stain, anyway. For that she'd need to find him outside of this City.

As Zixiao basked in the scattered applause, a few of the stronger Cultivators traded glances.

Luo, the earth-user with weathered brown skin, folded arms thick as tree trunks. Skinny tree trunks, but still. 'There are dangers in staying all together in a mass. These barbarians, with their strange "technology." They have things that can create very large explosions.'

Zixiao chuckled. 'Worry not, friend Luo. That is where you, and our other esteemed colleagues specialising in earth and stone, come in. We shall build a fort! I have brought you all here having identified it as the best possible location to do so! I have already cut away at one of the barbarians' crutches, which will give us time to settle in here without any organised attacks.'

He gestured to the side, where there against the wall rested a strange construction, three metal legs with a large black top made from some seamless material. That part was covered in buttons, and a green light blinked steadily from it. It supposedly prevented the barbarians utilising the long-ranged mind-to-mind connection that the Information Guild said they were all capable of. Zixiao was its owner.

The older water Cultivator, Maodan, offered a nod. 'With earth and water together, we can make something quite defensible of this place.' He glanced to the side, where a waterfall fell a short distance from their secluded location. 'This waterfall could be useful against some of their weapons, these lasers.'

Xuejing noted the gazes between them all. Felt the constant readiness of Soul Senses neighbouring her. The suspicion and wariness leaking from Souls not properly guarded.

'Fairy Xuejing,' called Zixiao to her. 'Most esteemed, most powerful, fated winner of this Tournament…' he added odiously, his smile looking more like a smirk. 'I would ask what you think of my humble plan?' He gave her a bow that was both unnecessarily deep and overly casual. The total effect was mocking.

Zixiao's question had brought all attention on her, the others turning and gazing at her with expressionless faces. With those words ringing in their ears, even she could all too easily imagine what they were thinking. She recalled what her brother had said.

'Xuejing, these scum are respectful on the surface because they know of our strength. But given a chance, all of them will seek to bring you down. With the reputation of our family, bringing any one of us low is considered something to boast about—however unearned the victory.'

His eyes, dark and empty and merciless, had gazed out from an expression that seemed gentle.

'For the honour of our family, you must win. Do not fail.'

Her breath was coming slightly faster, and it was difficult to keep her face as an icy, expressionless mask. She felt the tight guard she had over her Soul beginning to slip, and with a ruthless effort brought it back.

'I wonder what will become of those who were left outside,' she replied to Zixiao. 'Those who were posted as scouts and sentries, while we moved to setup here.' She heard her voice and was relieved. Perfectly calm and steady. Yes, she would not lose her composure here, nor anywhere.

Not while her older brother was watching, in the unseen stands above.

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