Eighteen.

The number was surreal. Out of millions, eighteen. The top twenty Gods in the Multiverse were legendary creatures, carved out snug spots in drinking songs across a good dozen languages—and had far more tales of their feats whispered around campfires across the Upper and Middle Realms. Each one could down the typical Empyrean. In fact most all of them were peak Gods. Usually old monsters who’d failed the bottleneck to enter Empyrean, and had built up deep wells of power nonetheless.

Eighteen.

“What is this—this scheme you’ve drawn up, my liege?” said Gerard. His eyes shone awe and curiosity. He approached Dorian carefully, as though he were a species previously thought extinct.

Rather silly. Dorian opened his mouth to tell Gerard off—something like oh, it’s nothing that extraordinary—but then frowned. It sort of was, wasn’t it? “It’s a slight variant on the typical schemes. Call it the solar system scheme, or sun-and-moon. It’s counterintuitive, you see. You need the right daos, the right Bloodline—and also a healthy disregard for your own wellbeing. One does not create a star in the middle of one’s body without running the risk of—well—exploding.”

The odds of that happening to him just now were, in retrospect, far higher than even he’d anticipated. That moment where the Star bulged—

If it hadn’t been so damned dense, so damned heavy…

“What… marvelous potency,” whispered Gerard. He got out a notebook. “This ought to be investigated—we must test this, unfurl its true nature. I’m in the midst of a lively correspondence with Gretton, of the Sikzil Academy of Natural Sciences—I suspect he’d be most intrigued…”

“No need for that!” said Dorian hastily. Gerard had two traits that synergized to make him a most heinous bore at times: he had a collector’s fascination with rare things, and he was an incorrigible nerd. The man read—and wrote—encyclopedias in his spare time! Dorian had seen him peruse whole volumes of reference texts on flora, then leave on a ten-year-expedition—only to return with one mildly intriguing rare flower to plant in his garden. The lengths this man went to to attain a 37-Leafed Clover…

Dorian felt no pressing need to be the subject of a three-volume treatise.

“I’ve still got the same amount of qi, mind you,” Dorian said “It’s only that my ceiling at each power level is raised, I think. This way is simply a much more efficient—if also much riskier—way of doing things. There’s drawbacks too—it’s much slower, for instance! With a sky-and-clouds system I’d be at Empyrean by now. Why—without a truly mind-boggling amount of qi I’d never make Godking!”

“True,” said Gerard. “Though it should also make for a more robust foundation for Godking, should it not? When you ascend, you may leap to Top-Ranker status, sir. You may outdo your rank as Salas Godhunter. Top Ten may be in play.”

“Maybe.” Dorian liked the sound of it.

“I’ve always wondered how certain old monsters—Nuwa comes to mind—seem to have infinite qi,” mused Gerard. “She’s always kept it a secret. Perhaps the mechanism is something similar…”

Just then a new voice popped in. “What’s going on?”

Sun sat blinking. “My head feels like it’s been split down the middle,” she announced. She sniffed. “Is that… burning? Did I miss something?” “It’s a long story,” said Dorian. “Ending with my being among the top twenty strongest Gods in the Multiverse!”

“Oh! Good job,” said Sun, the way you might congratulate a child for winning a participation trophy. “I’m hungry.”

To Gerard—“Do you have a cookie?”

Gerard had one at his fingertips in an instant. “Thank you!”

She started happily munching. “By the way,” she said through a mouthful of dough. “Weren’t there s’posed to be gifts from Fate or something?”

“In a sense,” said Dorian. “Fate is a wise old fellow. He’s not really one for such crude things as material possessions. His gifts to us were wise words—‘Live every day as if it were your last.’ Though I believe he also included a pair of handwoven mittens.”

Sun frowned at him. Then she frowned at the empty drum, lying on its side. Then back at him.

“…”

“…”

“You owe me a snack, mister. A good one,” she declared, squinting at him.

“Fine. Moving on!” Dorian clasped his hands together. “We have much to do if we are to heist.”

***

They were all sat around a tea-table, each of them with a tiny porcelain cup. The tea was, as always, marvelous. Which was also why Dorian didn’t buy Gerard’s whole ‘retire-to-the-countryside’ fantasy. The man would be crying real tears within a week without his Dragonheart teas.

“Here’s the basic plan,” said Dorian. “I will spin up a few distraction Techniques. Stuff to stun the crowd, clear them out the way. Make Chaos, on top of what the bombs will do.” Plus a few offensive movements and qigong Techniques, to shore up my base.

“Gerard is in charge of planting the bombs, and fending off any heavyweight tails we might pick up. If The King of Ur and his Royal Guard come for us, you’ll buy us time to escape.”

“Done,” said Gerard.

“And you, runt—you’re in charge of the cloaking and the infiltrating. You get us in. Got it?”

“Yup!”

“How fare are you from minor shapeshifting—insects? I believe it’s the thirtieth transformation, or so? You’ll need that to get in the vault.”

“After the Fruit I’m about Early God…” Sun scratched her chin. “I think Mid-God is when I get it? So… two weeks of cultivating! With some really good elixirs.”

“I have a few brews that may be of use,” said Gerard.

“Awesome. One more thing—” She stood. “I’m going scouting.”

“Now?”

“Can’t help it,” she said with a shrug. “You can’t motivate me to sit on my ass and meditate for two weeks straight. Unless I know for sure there’s a really juicy reward on the other end of it! So I’m off take stock of just what that Auction’s offering.”

“Also keep an eye out for Bloodline treasures!” said Dorian. It was most of why he’d come here. “They’ve always got a batch or two of top-shelf Bloodline Boosters—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do some scouting of the premises too. Be back soon!”

She turned to go. “Oh! Almost forgot.”

She turned back. “Mister Gerard—some money? Please?”

“Whatever for?”

She pointed at her open mouth. “Hungry.”

Gerard shot Dorian a questioning look, and he sighed. “…Give her a pouch.”

Sun weighed it thoughtfully. Then, embarrassed—“…A little more? Pretty please?” She said with big pleading doe-eyes—the same eyes she’d turned on Meng. Had it cocked and loaded at all times, apparently.

Gerard looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“That is more than enough for meal’s worth, miss Wukong.”

“Mister Gerard, I once got the whole Wukong Clan kicked out of the Stork Emperor’s wedding ‘cause his chefs couldn’t keep up with my mouth.”

“…”

“…”

“…I keep wallets on the wall—you may grab one of the gold-banded Interspatial Rings…”

Happily, Sun snatched it and left.

***

“Do you need me to take care of anything else before I go, my liege?” Gerard wore an ebony ring edged with silver runes, a custom Interspatial Ring made to transport qi-dense objects. The pocket dimensions inside most rings would collapse if you tried throwing in such energy

“I’ll be fine. Go on and plant them. Let’s regroup soon, eh?”

“I will see you tonight, sir.”

“Oh—and next time Fate calls, give him my thanks. And do ask him if he’s heard anything about Jez’s movements…the bounty’s not the only thing he has hanging over me. He’s sent out a few strike squads too. We had a nasty run-in with the Nine-Tailed Fox outside the Swamp.”

“Nujia?” Frown lines marred Gerard’s temple. “That is… most distressing. How are you still alive, might I ask?”

“We shadow-jumped! Sun’s cloaking has gotten just good enough to fool the wraiths. Not an option in this city, obviously…”

“When next Fate calls I will mention this. He has a mole high in Jez’s camp—perhaps they have an inkling of what else Jez has planned.”

“‘Till tonight, then!”

Gerard bowed to the waist. Then, with a flourish, stepped out.

***

It was just Dorian once more, licking his lips. The auction was in a moon’s time, or thereabouts. He could hardly expect to make a dent in his slog up to Empyrean for qi. The most fruitful he could do for the next month was Technique work—pick up or make up some nasty surprises. Sowers of chaos—Techniques to stun, Techniques to blind, Techniques to panic crowds…

It was time to visit the Martial Street and its Technique shops. His new Supergiant qi was burning a hole in the middle of him. A fresh-forged blade, just waiting to be unsheathed for the very first time. His requirements were simple: an Art that suited his Bloodline and his Dao both. And if he couldn’t find one—he doubted one would fit him exactly—all he needed was the seed of one. Something to jog his memories ‘till he could craft one that fit.

***

“Ah, Technique Street.” Dorian breathed in the air, which smelled of rotting eggs and sulfur. It roused a strange nostalgia in him. How long had it been since he’d been back? He recalled not liking this place, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall why.

Hordes of monsters of all stripes streamed to other side of him. To his left a pack of werewolves tried to carve a clear path through the choked street. To his right, a lizardman yanked a bucking drake about on a chain—“Heel, you dumb brute, heel!” There was plenty of berating, a dirty glares all around, and every second sentence spoken seemed to be a threat. Monsters were a fractious bunch at the best of times, but squeeze them all together and they got downright unhinged. Everyone screamed at everyone. Duels to the death were issued at the bump of a shoulder. But threats were all anyone said—no-one dared actually fight on Ur ground. It was the most civilized place in all Hell.

Which still meant that Dorian was pickpocketed close to a dozen times just jostling about the crowd, wading his way to Technique Street. The pickpockets found nothing. He kept his Interspatial Ring under his tongue.

“Technique Shop number one….”

He frowned at the sign, a gaudy explosion of gold font—with a crudely drawn fist tacked on at the end. “MASTER THUNDERFOOT’S SECRET TECHNIQUES!”

“Oh dear...”

Beneath, plastered onto glass windows, were a mass of posters.

“HEAVENLY TEN FINGER HEART EXPLODING TECHNIQUE: 5 Mid-grade Spirit Stones!”

“GODKING YVEN’S SUPER DEMON FIST OF HEAVENLY JUSTICE: 10 Mid-grade Spirit Stones!” Godking Yven’s face winked at him beneath the lettering.

Dorian squinted down the street.

Every shop he looked seemed determined to outdo its neighbor in trashiness. The fonts got louder. The lettering got bigger. The names got wackier and wackier.

...Nevermind a quality Technique—it’ll be hard enough finding a manual that isn’t a straight-up scam!