“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” Arson nodded at the young man he knew to be named Oscar. His own mind playing through the young man’s kidnapping in a night club. He watched as recognition slowly crept across his face, and he pointed at Arson.

“You're the dude that put me inside the box that ain’t really a box, and it had that one smoking hot chick with the swords!”

“That’s the one, but I’d be careful saying that about Micro out loud while she’s around, saw her cut... and you know what? Never mind. Can I help you with anything, massage, tai chi study, maybe a fine potion?” Arson gave his best salesman performance, showing off Rob’s potions with an extra flare, Oscar momentarily showing interest after seeing the quality, only to look back at Arson and refocus directly on him once more.

“Woah, what the sparks was that? You a Mesmer or something?” Arson laughed slightly at Oscar's words, wanting to work on his more social skills was beginning to pay off, the spiral of his eyes something he’d never attempted to use until he started to sell potions on top the roof.

“Nothing sir, just wanted you to see our valuable merchandise,” said Arson, lifting another potion in the air with the assistance of Jill, his living hand construct.

He was glad that he’d completed Jill and Jane during the trials within Endless with everyday that passed without him being able to connect with his first living hand properly.

“That is a good looking, what in the embers are you doing to me, you sparking kidnapping piece of—“ The sound of Arson’s watch cut Oscar off, and Anastasia spoke up.

“The old lady is calling again, I don’t think she would call this much if it wasn’t important,” Arson sighed and raised a hand toward Oscar and answered his watch.

“Sorry about this, one second. Hey Momma Almarine, is everything okay?” Oscar frowned when Arson turned around to greet the hologram of an adjacent realm icon. Oscar turned back to look at the small group that he entered with and they all looked as baffled or confused as Oscar felt.

“Who is this guy…?

“Yes dear, I just wanted to check in on you, as well as let you know that Mr Kim has scheduled—“

“A raid on the dump, yeah my mom told me, he isn’t still giving the orphans trouble, is he?”

“Yes, and no, some of the boycotts he’s put on letting the orphans buy from local markets was a problem, but your shipments of clothing and trade supplies has helped in our efforts tremendously,” said Almarine obviously reserved in her words, facial expressions kept tight in a way that Arson was familiar with.

“You're procrastinating, what is it?” said Arson. A dagger thrown verbally that Arson knew would give the woman a slight mental push toward sharing.

“How dare you…?”

“You called me, Momma Almarine, and I’d answer your call in the middle of a supernova, but let's not act like I’m not a busy person, again, one that loves you, still busy though,” said Arson with a laugh. The woman frowned at him, and nodded.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, or I’ll make Anastasia hack your systems,” blurted Arson with an odd feeling.

“I’m not afraid of your little computer box,” said Almarine.

“Yeah… wouldn’t be surprised if you either built this watch yourself, or know who did personally, and I’m also sure you care about me, but not enough to have my face follow you across every available screen in the orphanage, after I have Anastasia remove the ability for you to hang up or shut off your flatscreen,” threatened Arson with a raised eyebrow.

“If you were in the realm I’d be showing you why I raised you properly and how not speaking to your elders properly can and will end badly,” said Almarine. Arson glanced at the growing line and Oscar who still stared him down.

“I want a sparking rematch. Right here! Right now!” yelled Oscar. Arson did his best not to roll his eyes, but failed when he heard Almarine snicker. He looked back at his wrist and smiled.

“Call me back when you actually want to talk Momma Almarine,” said Arson, then he ended the call. To nearly everyone's shock including his own.

I may pay for that, but I have a lot to do.

“Okay so what exactly do you want, sir?” Arson asked as he turned to face Oscar, almost as if they’d never spoken.

“What do you mean, what do I want? I want a rematch, no weapons, just me and you,” growled Oscar. In Arson’s best salesperson response, Arson responded quickly.

“We don’t serve rematch here sir, but I can offer you a scheduled private tai chi lesson if you are interested?” Oscar looked at the group he came with and even a few of the other random patrons who’d entered baffled by what he was being presented with.

“Uhh—“

“I’m sorry, sir, the line is growing and your time is up, but you can start again from the end of the line if you’d like, or come back later. NEXT!” Jill and Jane softly guided the young man aside, and directed him toward the end of the line. Oscar waited through the entire line again, this time determined to get what he wanted.

“I want a re- No, I would like to schedule a tai chi private lesson,” said Oscar, the course of his words changing with each facial expression Arson made in his direction.

“I want a slot for right now... I mean... for as early as possible,” said Oscar next his continual shift in tone and speech being influenced by the elevation of Arson’s brow.

Arson smiled as the young man stepped to the side, and joined a small group of individuals there for a class or private lesson.

Oscar had originally been on the hunt for a part-time job, changing his mind once he’d recognized the very person that helped his parents come to the determination that he needed to be cut off from the family’s wealth.

It wasn’t Oscar’s fault that their fight had resulted in the destruction of the nightclub. Arson had even admitted to the young man that he’d knock the entire establishment over before he let Oscar escape, and that he had many more targets to get to that day.

At first, Oscar felt he had fought admirably, then the fight was flipped on its head, the very words Arson spoke to Oscar still filled his mind frequently even up to that very day.

“I’m sorry about this but I am on the clock here, so I’m going to have to try this new stance on you, and see if it works…” Oscar was taken back to the fight mentally every time the words rang throughout his mind.

The simple weapon Arson had held was rather long, and seemed built to be held in the young man’s hand. The new stance he developed far less destructive than his Flicker stance, but the perpetual motion of the stance put a heavy demand on his body.

Unknowingly to Oscar, the stance was copied from his own Living Hand constructs use of scythes during the Endless trials. Even now after he’d begun to devour the legacy energies of the Scythe, he still felt less skilled with the weapon type than his three Living Hands.

Oscar’s flexibility, versatility, and incredible ability to perform quick burst of movements, made him a perfect target for Arson’s practice, which Arson didn’t pass up.

Oscar watched as the weapon had swept toward his chest, aimed at his heart with deadly intent. He lifted his left leg to block in a high kick that should have knocked the blade off course.

Instead, the shaft of Arson’s weapon rotated smoothly in his grip. The blade redirected , sliding smoothly down Oscar’s lifted leg. And hooked silently around the opposing leg he used for stability.

The first time Oscar was slung through the air, he’d been shocked. The sound of screaming patrons, booming music, and the eventual sound of his body flying through a stone wall merged into a single blaring ring. Oscar had felt he’d been struck by a powerful air mana cultivator, a sound like a piercing alarm disrupted what little balance he had when he’d tried to come to his feet.

Oscar remembered his struggle to get upright. The feeling of the strength leaving his arms as he tried to pull himself up using the countertop’s edge above himself.

When Arson had stepped through the hole into the bar’s kitchen, the young man still having an entire conversation with someone on his watch, when he’d looked over at Oscar in that moment, unbothered by the fire and rubble as it rained down around him.

“You sure you don’t want to just give up?” Oscar should have said yes. His cultivator’s pride told him to fight, but the spin of the stars in the young man’s eyes spoke of an endless void of stars, hungry for Oscar’s life and will itself. He shook his head and a voice came from the watch alongside a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know why you even bother little buddy, not even the maiden herself could come down from the heavens and convince these idiots that they could lose…” After those words were spoken everything else was a blur for the young man,Oscar remembered being flung out a window. Being thrown through a few more walls, and maybe even being caught in the air by Arson’s scythe before being slammed bodily through the floor below the nightclub… maybe?

The order of events were jumbled in his mind, but he didn’t care. He’d later figured out he’d lost to a living weapon master named, Carter Gestalt, and the far too expensive property damage taxes would be paid by Oscar and not the man who’d beaten him handily.

After a while, Oscar watched the young man work, and couldn’t help but reconsider asking the man he knew to be known as Carter for the job he still needed.

The environment in the shop he ran was pleasant. Soft music played, and Oscar couldn’t help but join in the stances being shown to the classes he hosted, especially after seeing all the sludge that was pouring from his fellow students' bodies. While none came out of the young man who led the class, nothing but crystal clear liquid that looked more like water than sweat being excreted from his pores.

“Finally, it's my turn,” said Oscar.” On his feet and ready to go, he was approached by Carter.

“So how would you like to spend your time, I can either instruct you in forms that may remove the most toxins from your body, we can try some more practical exercises, there are some pressure point practices that I’m not completely educated in involved with that, but I am willing to try if you are?”

“Yes, the second option seems better. Am I too defend myself during this, or am I to attack you? How does this work?” asked Oscar hoping for more of an explanation, but instead Arson bowed at the waist and smiled.

“Let’s begin." Oscar lifted his arms to defend himself, and instantly felt his right forearm go numb.

“For those of you who are following this demonstration, I will slow down some of the movements, for your practicing purposes,” said Arson. Toxins had already started to leak from Oscar’s right arm; Arson already having had struck three points in the young man’s wrist as he raised it a moment prior.

“Did you see him move at all?” asked one of the young men bathing in the distance. Their audience engaging in discussions all around them as Arson moved around Oscar.

The young man tried to defend himself from being struck by Arson, determined to let no more attacks land on his skin, only for Arson to move so quickly that they were closer than an arm span away from one another in a blink.

What Oscar thought at first to be punches with how quickly Arson struck out each time, ended up being feather light touches that caused pressure within any muscle group Arson aimed for.

Primarily he focused on Oscar’s torso, as this was where most if not all Cultivators kept the majority of their accumulated impurities. While others like Arson was forced to purge toxins mostly from their skull, eyes, or brain.

“What is all this?” Oscar felt like his body grew slighter in build, a defense trained in him by soldiers from battles experienced before either young man had even been thought of by their parents, was picked apart piece by piece.

He’d thought fighting the weapon master was the best bet for him now while he wasn’t holding his weapon. While Arson had long made a game of having his tai chi students try to use the forms he’d taught them to defend from him striking points on their body that would release the black ooze from within.

Arson pushed aside the thoughts on how much better his students faired. He wanted to remain separate from the academy’s inner workings as much as possible, under the notion that he may not become a student.

I could ignore the signs of poor combat capability all around me, if things weren’t so similar.

A field that stuck out in Arson’s memory was that of the area with the destroyed foreign vessel obviously from another realm. A realm unfamiliar to Arson, as he’d never seen the style of ship before, but he had seen the same types of crashes occur during invasions.

Even while he moved slowly around Oscar, Arson thought about what he may face if he truly committed and sighed.

He closed his eyes and continued his work. Those around him going silent as what Arson did seemed impossible for anyone their own age to be capable of.

Then his watch rang with a holo-call and Arson paused, opening his eyes with a smile.

“Hello Xani, what’s going on? Is everybody here?” An image of his white haired friend was displayed and she immediately began to scream.

“Embers, kid! I mean... no spark that! I didn’t force you to be a time traveler of all things, you just jumped back in and expect everything to be fine but now, you’ve done too much for your little boy britches!”

“Woah, Xani, calm down. What’s going on?”

“Did you just tell me to calm down, little boy? I will blow your whole ember licking operation up. First you disappear and I’m like "nope, we good," then you came back, and I’m like "yup, knew we was good," now you bring us to lunatic mountain? I bet I use my emergency coin from Jade and leave before you make me do anything in this pile of bloody embers!” Arson turned back to Oscar, Xani continuing to yell through his watch. The young man looked dazed and as if he’d just woken up from a particularly deep nap.

“I’m sorry, it looks like I need to go handle some things, but I’m going to leave some attendants here for you all, and services should continue just fine.” Arson closed his eyes, whispered a single word and two forms stepped free from his shadow with smooth silent steps.

Two forms was his current maximum while sealed for now. Temper and Thinker the ones he determined worthy of the task.

“Didn’t you say you wanted a duel, my guy? I’ll duel you, there’s this kick I’m working on where I... you know what? Don’t worry about it, I’ll show you. Glory is going to freak when I tell him I finally did it,” said Temper. He approached Oscar who didn’t understand what was happening, just that he’d been dragged off and thrown into a tub full of a strange sudsing water that ate the dark material off his skin.

Thinker positioned himself behind a counter Arson made to sell potions, bath products, and exercise clothing Jasmine had forced into his inventory in case he met someone famous who like their brand.

“Are you even paying any attention, you brat!”

A light flickered in the side of Arson’s eyes so quickly Arson wondered if maybe a teacher had used some sort of movement technique nearby. Arson ignored the flash, but felt he shouldn’t have, the odd light a struggle to push toward the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried.

He opened the doors to his shop, and exited his focus once more on the agitated Xani.

“Yes, mom, I’m paying attention," joked Arson, his attempt to defuse her anger again failing.

“If I didn’t know your mother and enjoy her cooking, I’d call her out her name right now. Khalif is in a death match with an insane amount of—" Xani’s hologram ducked and a fan of knives arced through the air above her head.

“Rob ran somewhere at the first sight of bloody food, and your girlfriend, of course, took off. Who knows where in the embers she is, and your goofy face is making me want to smack you!” Arson realized Xani was flying, and felt a pang at knowing he currently couldn’t manage the same feat. He’d tried to side step the system restriction, but decided not to try again unless his life depended on it.

The seal on his arm had began to burn, and the research he’d done on seals since receiving the one on his palm, was intensive.

Many who’d broken seals had lost limbs, and though Arson’s regeneration abilities were impressive, there were many with grander capabilities than Arson currently that had lost limbs to seals that had not grown back at all. Explosions with a sacrifice unlike any other for Cultivators.

“Where are you, Xani? I’m on my way now,” When Xani responded next, Arson could only shake his head as he jumped from the roof top.

“About time, old man, could you move any slower!”