There was a time in this gang that the divisions were far less linked together, a mishmash of fighting and ongoing plots against one another. The rite of challenge offered political tactics and a chance for the divisions to assert their individual authority. It was an outdated, and scarcely used relic of an older age.

Nobody was going to put themselves on the line over me. I had no friends in this gang; Tristan won, and I’d have to figure out how to get him before he got me.

Would there be enough time to launch forward and give him what he deserved before someone yanked me off and beat me to death? If I died here, would they leave my family alone? This was my fault. If I’d been quicker, maybe Till would’ve lived. If I’d been stronger and focused on my cultivation and training instead of chasing thrills, this whole thing could’ve been different. I’d been weak. In New Valentine, I could ill afford that.

“The Seventh Division invokes the rite of challenge.” A woman’s voice cut through the silence, as the Seventh Division Captain strode forward, scowling. Her black hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her jacket rolled up to reveal arms completely inked in a dangerous sleeve of thorns and flowers.

The constable worked his jaw and frowned. “State your basis, Captain Atkins.”

“We are at war. Discarding a warrior with a Soul Seed is wasteful, given the conditions. You say he’s a coward, then I say we beat it out of him. Simple enough.”

“He fled which led to the death of his previous captain. The loss of a captain with a Manifested Soul holds far more weight than a warrior with a Soul Seed.” He glared at Atkins, as she squared right up to him, and glowered back at the constable—she was a couple of inches taller. Nails tapping against her forearm, painted the same dark red as blood.

She waved the complaint away, shaking her head. “To say him fleeing being the direct cause of death is ridiculous, cowardice can be remedied. Even if he’d not run, just how much could he have done to prevent Captain Till’s death? Shit happens in a fight, it’s impossible to predict how things could have went.” She paused, her eyes landing on Tristan. “Unless of course, he was always supposed to die. In which case, no matter what he did, Captain Till would still be a corpse.”

“I resent such an accusation,” Tristan stepped up, a snarl on his face. “Anyone can confirm that I was Captain Till’s right-hand man. I, more than anyone else, had more to lose with his passing. And now that I’m the Captain of the Fourth Division I wish to see the person responsible for his death punished.”

“You’ve been a Captain for less than five minutes, sit down and shut up.” Captain Atkins gave a harsh laugh, making Tristan bristle. “You and your division can piss and whine all you want, but I’m more concerned about winning the war we started.”

“Being the Fourth Division Captain for even a minute is worth more than a whole lifetime wallowing in the trash that is the Seventh Division!”

Captain Atkins smirked at Tristan, before shifting her attention to the constable. “Is that so? Well then, I’ve issued my rite of challenge. Formally declare your opposition. Then I’ll pick a resolution by combat. Since you’re new, I don’t mind teaching you your place.”

Shock spread through the rest of the Brass Kings. Outright declaring her intent for a resolution by combat was barely a step below internal war. The Viceroy would be absolutely pissed. The constable cleared his throat, well aware the situation slipped far outside of his control already and headed for worse. Even I thought the psycho would take her up on the offer, especially with everyone watching. Otherwise, it meant he’d submitted to the weakest division. She’d thoroughly cornered him.

I didn’t know if she’d win or not; my life essentially rode on the results. The anticipation almost made it fun, even if it shouldn’t be.

“This is not necessary. By the power invested in me as a proxy of the Marshal in these proceedings, I will sustain Captain Atkin’s challenge. It is more beneficial, at this moment, to not waste a cultivator. However, due to her insistence, she will be responsible to beat the cowardice out of him. As of this moment, Luca Cavicchi belongs to the Seventh Division, and will be held on probation.” The constable spat on the ground, the air felt heavy. It was fucked up of me that the first emotion I felt wasn’t relief, but rather disappointment that my fate wouldn’t come down to a fight.

On one hand, this decision threw me into the worst division. And now I was unpopular with the majority of the Brass Kings—since the Seventh Division Captain just pissed off the Constable, her division would likely pay the price. Now I was hers.

On the other hand, that psycho couldn’t go after my family. So, for that, I was beyond grateful for the surprising turn of events.

Tristan kept his mouth closed, walking off and gesturing for his division to depart. I watched his back, anger coiling like a snake inside. He’d done everything he could to silence me and punish me over something he did. Now, he got to walk off like nothing happened. Hell—now had the same position as the man he’d killed. A man that was much better than him in every way. I’d pay him back, for abusing me, killing the captain, and that smug fucking grin of his. I didn’t care how long it’d take. This wasn’t over.

The rest of the gang dispersed, as unhappy as me, even if it was for different reasons. Delinquents loved to spill blood, and they’d much rather see the captains brawl, or have me tossed from the gang. Soon only the Seventh Division Captain and members of her division hung around.

“Kayson,” Captain Atkins called out, not looking in my direction, despite essentially saving me.

He moved forward, bowing his head. “Yes, Captain?”

“You got us into this shit pit. He’s your responsibility. Any problems with that?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good.” She strode off another word, flowing away like a storm over land. Kayson adjusted his glasses and sighed.

“Go home Luca, and get cleaned up. I’ll give you a couple of weeks to sort yourself out, then we’ll formally welcome you to the squad. Bruno, mind driving him? I’ve got some things to take care of, now.” Kayson said, rather reserved.

“Of course! C’mon buddy, welcome to the squad! Hahahah!” Bruno grabbed me by the wrist, jerking me after him and away from the lieutenant. “You have a way of attracting trouble, don’t you?” we went off to his bike. I grumbled a noncommittal response. Still reeling over why they’d go that far for me. I just couldn’t see their angle, even if they’d believed me about Tristan. What did they plan to use me for?

At least I’d have a couple of weeks to recover and sort out what the fuck just happened. I didn’t relish meeting this new squad or being part of the worst division. But at least I wouldn’t have a psycho breaking my door open in the middle of the night. So, I’d take it and try to be grateful for the lifesaving, even if I didn’t know what their plot was.

Life in the Brass Kings was always filled with brawls and scraps. Drinking and gambling went with the trouble we stirred up in New Valentine. Fucking around and living for the thrill was why I and many others joined the gang—but the protection, for both your family and yourself from the others was the main benefit. I’d come real close to having that ripped away today.

This world was a long stretch from how cultivation used to be. But principles of the ancient times never really changed. Those with power sat above all, did whatever they wished. Even the heavens couldn’t force their hands. Those without that overwhelming power? They had the scrape by and hope for the best, huddle together for protection. Until I was powerful enough to fend for myself, I had to rely on the gang. I was sick of that.

Bruno drove me back to Southside, I cut the shit and just told him my actual address. He helped me off the bike and patted my shoulder.

“Don’t look so grim Luca! There’s nothing to worry about! We get to punch a lot of Crimson Eagles together!”

“Aint care about that, big guy. Only one fucker I wanna punch. Tristan’s going to get what’s coming for him.”

Bruno got a little more serious. “Really? You plan to take him out?”

“I aint the strongest. But Ma taught me to pay my debts, and I owe that motherfucker something fierce.”

Bruno nodded, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it with a spark from his fingertip. “Then get stronger! You see your problem. All you need is more fighting!” He gave a chuckle, shaking his head. “Stick with me, Luca. I can see it. We’re bound to wade into glorious combat with one another.”

I stared at him and ran a hand across my jaw. Hard not to remember what it felt like when that foot of his bashed it. Now that we were in the same squad, for better or worse we’d be fighting together. But, I didn’t play pretend. Fourth Division, or Seventh Division—I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. I’d get stronger, then take what I wanted from the world.

“Yea, sounds good. Thanks for the ride.” I waved him off, walking into my house. It was around midday, I could slink into my room and not worry about any questions from Alex or Ma.