"Your cable technique is exceptional. You're also talented and cunning and vicious, but you fight without proper consideration of your vulnerabilities." The Lord General offered his observations on Hector's performance while tearing apart a gargantuan lizard with force cables halfway to peak level ten in potency.

"I know your domain footprint isn't large, so you need to fight close. That I understand very well from my younger days. What you do wrong is allowing yourself to be surrounded. Whether it is a group you face or a single large opponent, you must control distance. Get close enough to attack and no closer, then whittle the enemy down. Remain mobile, keep your options open, dart in and out as necessary. Kill from afar as much as possible."

The lizard collapsed into gunk from a hundred meters away. The advice made sense, but Hector couldn't help but think it wasn't nearly so simple to execute. Not when his own footprint was so much smaller. "Are there exercises that can expand my domain?"

The Lord General shot a smirk at Hector. "Do you know any exercises to make yourself taller?"

"No…."

"Exactly. Some characteristics are immutable."

Hector studied his new mentor. "How did your domain get so large? Is it your insight?"

"I can only wish my insight could influence my domain. I could have used the extra reach back in the day. This is one of the many advantages that comes from being a Lord." Thrakkar smacked Hector on the shoulder. "Did you know there are names for every soul level from one to ten?"

Hector blinked at the sudden change in subject. "I did not."

"What do we call level ten?"

"Lord."

"Right. Or, among the Zing, it is known as Immortal. Now give me the name for any other level. I'll bet you can't. Honestly, I don't remember all of them myself. They fell out of favor hundreds of years ago and using them sounds needlessly archaic. At level seven, you are a Chief. My point with this tangent is that level ten is not just another doubling of capacity. It's a unique advancement."

"Because of the Tribulation?"

The Lord General chuckled. "Yes, though indirectly. The advancement to level ten is when a Xian severs himself from reality. It's not absolute by any means, but a Lord has the ability to resist external influence. When I stretch forth my domain, reality isn't nearly so restrictive for me as it is when you do the same."

"I can't wait to get there myself," Hector quipped.

The Lord General's good cheer faded. "You should focus on training your apertures. A Tribulation kills one in two of those properly prepared. For those whose ambition for levels exceeds their diligence, survival is impossible."

"I will bring my apertures to the peak before level ten."

"That's not what I told you," the Lord General said. "Before every advancement. How many opportunities have you missed so far?"

"I've reached the peak in my body enhancement for every level since four."

"The last time we met, at Zara's celebratory cookout, your domain and aura were shamefully below level. You are less lopsided now, it is true, but the goal is for as much of your aperture material as possible to be blessed by each advancement. You've lost many opportunities to reinforce yourself."

Hector clenched his jaw. "No one ever made me aware of these facts, Master Thrakkar."

"These explanations are not spread around lightly. Not to upstart commoners and definitely not to foreign dreamers. How many times have you heard – through your ears or those of your predecessor – that you must not become a hollow spear? Did you think that phrase empty air? The wise heed the advice of experts without needing to hear explanations."

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Once the Lord General decided they'd had their fill of sport, they began the journey back to the Stronghold. The admonishments of the Lord rang in his ears, a psychological echo. How many times had he heard the phrase 'hollow spear' over the years? The answer: so often that he ignored it as a cliche. It had seemed practical advice about not being weak for one's level.

Yet as he thought on it, there had always been a deep conviction when those more talented advised Volithur against his mad rush for levels. Another obvious clue lay in the advancement levels of the scions of the first household Volithur knew. Dorian, back when he was an entitled bully, had only been level six. Corey was level six as well. Why were grandchildren of the Lord General, promising talents with still-living parents, not higher level? They could have been fed platinum elixirs to reach level eight or nine in a few years.

Yet that hadn't happened. In fact, when Hector met Dorian all these decades later, he was only level seven. Even if his estrangement from his family cut off much of his progress, there were still a lot of progress unaccounted for. The time from Volithur reaching level six until his betrayal of the Lord General passed by with Dorian and Corey barely advancing.

It had been right there in front of him and he never saw it. If the favored children of a Lord's household took their time, there obviously had to be a reason. And though no one outright told Volithur why, they'd always expressed disapproval about his rush for levels. It was the kind of reaction you gave coworkers who bragged about how they were buying a time share or investing their money into an obvious pyramid scheme.

None of those recriminations really mattered. He couldn't unmake past decisions. The only thing to do was analyze his circumstances and determine his path forward. His body aperture should be mostly fine. He reached the peak before advancing to five and six, and was over halfway to the peak when he advanced to level seven. His mind aperture hadn't reached the peak until right before his last advancement, but at least that was one blessing his mind received.

His aura and domain were the laggards. They were in the low twos when he advanced to five. They were in the high threes when he advanced to six. And just recently when he advanced to seven his domain was about five while his aura lagged behind in the mid fours.

It was a lot of missed benefits. He had two more advancements before the big one to level ten. Two blessings wasn't as good as nine, but it would have to do. Maybe the purity of the cosmic energy he used would bridge some of the gap between what he had and what could have been.

The situation still seemed manifestly unfair to him. He felt like he was being punished for something he couldn't have known about. Ultimately, though, the real fault in his thoughts was expecting the world of cultivation to be fair. He really should know better. The very first lesson Volithur learned, while on septic duty, was that Xian society wasn't just or kind. It was a Machiavellian nightmare for anyone lacking power or the right kind of connections.

Somehow he, Hector Thoreaux, now had the right kind of connections. One of the major personages of the entire species had decided to personally mentor him. That was no minor thing. He had gotten his hands on secret techniques and received invaluable advice on his future cultivation. The benefits may have come later than they did for noble scions, but they did eventually come to him.

They passed not far from where the problematic rift had been. No jagged rip marred the horizon any longer. Instead, tread marks littered the ground. Colonel Quinn had wasted no time sending a team out to close the rift.

Then they were back in the Stronghold just as the sun set. Hector received permission to say some quick goodbyes, so he rushed to the bunker. He passed off the table scraps to his former subordinates, made them promise to behave for their new leader, and departed. For once they didn't pester him, other than an initial query about whether he personally knew their ancestor. His affirmative answer caused them to immediately clam up.

It was on to speak with Purification next. She was in her office within the command center, looking like someone had run over her dog. "It looks like the miasma mitigation project isn't going anywhere," she said in greeting.

"Not yet, at least. I'll be back."

"Hector… the Stronghold might not be closing in the next few months, but this is a temporary reprieve. I don't even know what we're trying to accomplish here any longer. Transit keeps giving passionate speeches and throwing credits at us. That's enough to keep us motivated for a while. Eventually, though, reality will catch up with the Reconquest. In two years Aes isn't likely to exist. I liked working with you, Hector. Best of luck out there."

They shared an awkward hug. After, he reported to Colonel Quinn and received permission to depart. When he promised to return, the colonel told Hector to follow the normal enlistment process if he decided to participate in the Reconquest again. The tone was perfectly reasonable, but Hector understood that he wasn't welcome to resume his role any longer.

His last sight of Stronghold Gamma was from above as he flew into the open maw of the Lord General's immense transit sphere. It looked smaller and more fragile than it ever had.

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