“Though I promised myself I wouldn’t be surprised, I can’t understand how you manifested such a prison with so little training, master,” Kel explained as Lena and the other contestants watched Micro carefully. “And how did you suddenly fill your core with so many Core Cards’ teachings?!”

  “I just put them in the back with the rest,” Micro shrugged. “And Thea helped me realize why the armour of the Turtle Art I summoned was so brittle.”

  “It was brittle…?” Kel asked, somewhat embarrassed by Micro’s claim.

  “Well, compared to steel at least,” Micro replied with another shrug. “I didn’t notice at first when I was fighting that Imperial Guard but—”

  “You fought an Imperial Guard?!” Teran interjected, but Lena’s gaze silenced her again. “Why aren’t you dead?”

  “It wasn’t my intention at the time, but the turtle shell shield I tried to make back then also wound up looking like a door,” Micro said, tracing the shape of a truck door in the air with his hands. “The box I caught Thea in was the rest of the cab. What safer place is there for a passenger?”

  “A what?” Lena asked on behalf of the group.

  “That’s where the passengers go. Well, that’s where they went before I got pockets,” Micro replied, pointing at his chest pockets where two pixies continued to rest. “Even though the Turtle Art taught me how to make armour like a turtle’s shell, it felt much easier to make something I was more familiar with. Doing what felt natural was great advice!”

  “Indeed, the Turtle Art only gives you the tools to construct the armour, while it is your own mind that determines the outcome, but such a complex prison was so natural to you…” Kel said slowly as he processed the information. “That was not the ethereal construct of a novice cultivator…!”

  “And Thea’s advice about combining arts helped me solve the energy problem, though not being able to move while rooted to the ground would have been a problem without the Spirit Wave card Trill gave me,” Micro continued.

  “Honoured Imperial Guard, you were the one who warned everyone to brace themselves…” Yin asked Lena with a humble bow. “I failed to take your generous advice to heart. Your warning also saved many from the effects of the Spirit Wave Skill.”

  “Indeed,” Lena said quietly, shaking her head. “I saw its potential for destruction outside the Mycelial Art Dungeon we challenged this morning. Its destructive power when combined with the Mycelial Art is unlike any jade level technique I’ve witnessed.”

  “Mushrooms really to go with—” Micro tried to explain, but Lena suddenly reached out and grabbed his ear, pulling him toward her to face him with a stern look.

  “Our deal stands,” she whispered with a fiery tone. “But you’re risking both of our goals by causing such a scene. I won’t interfere in your silly tournament as we agreed, but I would ask that you draw less attention should you fight again…”

  Lena’s voice trailed off as she noticed the smile on Micro’s face, and she let out a sigh, releasing his ear and bringing her palm to her forehead.

  “I’ll do my best!” Micro said with a thumbs up.

  “What have I gotten myself into?” Lena mumbled as she walked back into the crowd to find a place to sit. “So humiliating…”

  “None of that explains why you have so many Core Cards mastered already though,” Teran added. “And they’re all so random!”

  “Indeed,” Kel mumbled, nodding at her question. “No disrespect, of course…!”

  “It’s not that hard though,” Micro answered in confusion, turning to Kel. “Didn’t you master the Turtle Art Card almost as fast as me?”

  “I spent my entire life studying that art before I finally won the Core Card itself,” Kel answered with a somewhat defeated expression. “I prepared my soul for years in advance of absorbing it, and it still feels as though my core is under constant tension.”

  “So your souls don’t have anywhere to put the cards?” Micro asked. “No pockets?”

  “A soul wouldn’t have pockets unless you were physically born with pockets!” Teran shouted in frustration. “Even then, for a soul to be so well-defined a shape… That isn’t something possible for cultivators at our level!

  “A human soul would certainly lack pockets at any level of cultivation, in theory,” Yin agreed. “The nature of a human is—”

  “Oh, I’m not human,” Micro replied. “I’m a Micro.”

  “You wha—” Teran asked, but she was interrupted by a growl.

  “Sorry,” Micro said as he brought his hands to his stomach. “I used up a lot of energy… Is there any mountain fried beef around here, Kel?”

  “No, master,” Kel replied with a deep breath.

  “Honey buns?” Micro asked with a disappointed stare.

  “No,” Kel replied again. “My apologies, Master Micro, but I don’t think—”

  “Excuse me, young master,” A young woman suddenly said as she bowed deeply behind Micro. “If you require sustenance, then I know of a place…”

  “That mundane woman literally just opened her mouth near me! Get away!” Ki let out an angry aura that made the young woman’s knees buckle, but Micro reached out to support her. “Gross!”

  “Master, you shouldn’t associate with such a—” Kel tried to explain tactfully, but he was unsure how to make Micro understand the problem. “That is, perhaps you could find other—”

  “Are you coming, Kel?” Micro asked as the woman led him away.

  “No, I—I just…” Kel stuttered, while the others watched in shock and horror. “If you would only listen—”

  “I’ll see you later then,” Micro called back. “Before sundown!”

  ~

  Micro followed the young woman to the arena’s largest gate, where Azar still stood with a grim look on his face. He waved as he passed by, but Azar only stared menacingly as he passed.

  “We’ll be watching,” he whispered, his voice carried by a cold aura straight to Micro’s ears. “Before sundown, or else…”

  “See you then!” Micro replied loudly.

  “Ah!” the young woman yelped as Azar’s terrifying aura washed over her, and Micro noticed the odd colours of her eyes. One was dark brown, while the other was bright red. Though her robes were filthy and her long hair was messy, her red eye seemed to glow brightly through the dust.

  “Your eye looks like a brake light!” Micro said as she led him down the dusty road.

  “I apologize,” she replied timidly. “Should I… remove it?”

  “No, it’s a good thing,” Micro quickly explained. “Brakes are important!”

  “Thank… you?” The woman replied with an awkward smile. When she looked into Micro’s eyes, however, her smile seemed to grow warmer. “Really, thank you.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Where are we going, by the way?” Micro asked as his stomach growled again.

  “My family would be honoured to serve you at our inn,” she replied. “It is unworthy of you, but we will do what we can do to thank you.”

  “Oh, that’s nice of you,” Micro replied. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m unworthy to be called anything but your humble servant,” she answered humbly, looking behind to bow slightly at Micro as he followed.

  “Nice to meet you, your humble servant,” he said with a wave, but he was disappointed when she only smiled and returned his wave. “Huh…”

  After walking a few short blocks from the arena, the woman stopped in front of a small building, tucked between two larger buildings, made of the same combination of rotting wood and unevenly stacked stone as the rest of the buildings in the town.

  “Please, young master,” she welcomed him through the door, and he was surprised to find the inside almost completely silent. The noise of the busy street just outside seemed to disappear as the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

  “Thanks,” Micro replied as his eyes adjusted to the room. It reminded him more of the cave where he was summoned than the luxuriously decorated rooms of the Fire Mountain Turtle Sect where he’d stayed recently, but several people smiled at him as the woman caught their attention. He was relieved that it wasn’t nearly as dark as the caves, thanks to several small candles placed around the room.

  “This is Micro, father,” she addressed a thin elderly man who sat stirring a pot of soup over a rustic fireplace. She continued her explanation with a hushed tone. “He is overseeing the tournament.”

  “I am?” Micro asked.

  “Mind your tongue, noisy girl,” her father whispered nervously as he stood up to greet Micro. “It is plain to see.”

  “Of course,” she whispered back, bringing her hand to her mouth and nodded. She walked over to a small wooden table and arranged several old chairs around it.

  “Fate needs no narration. It is good to see you. Please, let me offer you lunch,” the woman’s old father continued, using his shaking hands to prepare a bowl of the watery soup while the woman led Micro to the table. Two older women, one holding an infant, then joined him at the table.

  “What a sight for sore eyes…” one of them said politely.

  “You bless us with your presence today, Micro,” another added as the old man brought him the bowl of soup. “News of your arrival was a pleasant surprise.”

  “Thanks!” Micro said as he picked up the bowl eagerly and quickly began to empty its contents into his mouth. As he tasted it, the idea of using his Spirit Taste Skill occurred to him, and his sense of taste immediately sharpened. Behind the bland taste, he began to see visions of the rusty knife that chopped the vegetables, the exhaustion of the lady who prepared it, and the bitter expressions of the farmers who harvested the ingredients. “Wow.”

  The people at the table looked on with apprehension has Micro closed his eyes to deeply understand what he was tasting. It was flavourless and the vegetables were nowhere near as satisfying as the mountain fried beef he had grown accustomed to, but it warmed his empty stomach and he put the empty bowl down with a grateful burp.

  “Are you not going to eat anything?” Micro asked as he looked around at the others. “It seems quiet for an inn.”

  “Forgive the humble limits of our hospitality,” one of the old women said with a frail voice. “Few with silver to spare would lay their eyes on such a humble place as this, and times only get harder with each passing year…”

  “Was the harvest not good this year?” Micro asked. “The old man had a few years like that. He almost sold me once to cover a debt, but he took up a part time job for the winter instead…”

  “The harvest?” The red-eyed girl’s father scoffed. “Few of us see the harvest for ourselves. Those who should be our allies snatch most of it up and call it a tax, and what do they give us in return!”

  “That explains why the soup was so sad…” Micro nodded. “No offence!”

  “And the cultivators are such—” The old woman added, but an intense stare from the others silenced her. She bit her tongue, then laughed nervously. “Excuse me, what was I saying…?”

  “If you’re being taxed so much here, why not move?” Micro asked. “Business seems to work very differently here…”

  “The mundane cannot travel alone through this world,” the old man said, sighing down at his bowl, but then he looked at Micro with a subtle grin. “But you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”

  “Could you sell what you grow in another town?” Micro continued.

  “Sell it elsewhere?” the young woman asked.

  “Yes, where it might fetch a higher price,” Micro explained. “Sometimes the old man took me to three or four towns in a day before he found somewhere to sell his fruits early in the season. Prices can vary a lot from town to town.”

  “How would we get there…?” the woman asked, her face showing a hint of confusion at his line of questioning.

  “Just drive there if—” Micro began, but then he realized his mistake. “I see…”

  “What is it?” the woman asked, suddenly concerned by his sad expression.

  “You have no roads,” Micro lamented. “No trucks, no street lights, no signs…”

  “Those things sound expensive,” the old man said with a bitter smile. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us humble servants of fate. The cultivators see to their own business for the most part, trading in artifacts and treasures beyond our imaginations. The mundane have little to sell and less to spend…”

  “Oh!” Micro shouted, causing the infant in one woman’s arms to stir. The woman excused herself as she retreated to another room to rock it to sleep. Micro reached into his storage and retrieved three of the gold coins he had received from Tohan. “Here. Thanks for the soup!”

  The three hosts looked in awe at the glistening gold coins that Micro had placed so casually at the centre of the table.

  “What is it you require of us?” the old man asked with a more serious tone. “Anything in service of her will, of course.”

  “Huh?” Micro tilted his head. “Spend it how you like. You need it more than I do.”

  “Is this not required for a more specific… mission?” the old man asked. “The orders which arrived previously were very specific, not that I doubt your judgement.”

  “This much gold…” The red-eyed woman gasped. “It seems unreal, but—”

  “Use it to find somewhere better to do business,” Micro added. “I don’t need it. I can walk pretty far on my own, and people are fairly nice to me. Well, some people are…”

  “We—We could truly leave this kingdom—We could, but,” the young woman whispered, stuttering in shock. “Beyond the reach of—”

  “No, we were meant to…” the old woman began to argue, but the glistening of the gold quickly silenced her.

  “Why would we be permitted to escape?” the old man asked suspiciously.

  “Escape?” Micro asked. “What would you do after you left?”

  “What do you mean?” the older woman asked. “Is this a test?”

  “I’m asking what you’d do in a new place,” Micro explained. “Do you like farming?”

  “I want to own a restaurant,” she replied with watery eyes. “But until now, I mean… But why?”

  “Why what?” Micro asked again, increasingly confused by her apparent internal conflict.

  “Why would you free us of our fate today?” she asked intensely. Her family looked shocked by her outburst, but they only listened in silence to the exchange. “Why now? Why this time? Why us?!”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Micro replied, shaking his head in confusion. “I’ll come eat at your restaurant one day. Are you sure that’s enough to buy one?”

  “It’s more—more than enough…!” the woman sobbed. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Blessed be—”

  “Yes,” her father interrupted her, raising his voice to an uncomfortable volume. He continued speaking while leaning back to look outside through a crack in the dusty curtains hanging in front of the dark room’s only window. “Bless you for this gift, young master. Your sect must value kindness!”

  “I guess I should get back to them, now that you mention it,” Micro said with a cheerful laugh. “Kel is always so worried about everything. He reminds me of the old man’s son sometimes. Always worried…”

  “You’re leaving so soon?” The old woman asked softly, her own voice shaking as she stifled her tears. “Just like that?”

  “I’ll probably have to fight again soon, so I should meditate with Kel for a while just in case,” he replied as he stood up, the other three quickly rising from their own seats. “What will the name of your restaurant be?”

  “Its name…” The girl smiled in surprise at the question. “What would you have us call it?”

  “A name, huh?” Micro scratched his chin, taking the question seriously. He looked around the room, and then settled on a name he was happy with. “Brake Light!”

  “Might I ask—” Her father spoke softly again. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a safety feature people take for granted!” Micro replied enthusiastically, then he looked at the young woman. “And safety is important.”

  “So ‘Brake Light’ means ‘safety’ on your—” The old man coughed. “Where you are from! What a beautiful sentiment…”

  “So fate could be this merciful,” the young woman whispered in disbelief, tentatively placing her hands atop the gold coins on the table, as if to confirm whether they were really there.

  “Good luck with the restaurant. I hope you don’t have issues with parking!” Micro said as he walked to the door. “Thanks for the soup!”

  “We won’t forget this!” the girl with one red eye shouted, but Micro was already walking down the busy street.

  “They were nice…” he thought aloud as he made his way back to the tournament grounds. With his stomach full of soup and the warmth of the sun at his back, he let out a long sigh. “I guess this town isn’t so bad!”