Hu Shui still thought of himself as a researcher, though it had been quite some time since he’d looked at the world through the eyes of a scientist. His keen sense of observation remained, even if the current situation didn’t truly call for any great insight. One look at Elijah Hart, and even a blind man could read the danger of his presence.

  Even if Hu Shui hadn’t seen the mounds of bodies, it was easy to believe that he could slaughter an entire army of settlers.

  “You have changed since last we met,” Hu Shui remarked as he led Hart inside the Conclave compound. It was one of the most profitable branches among the network he’d built, largely because Ironshore was such a prolific participant in world trade. Not to the same degree as a commercial hub like Argos, but very busy, nonetheless. And the Conclave had funneled some of the resultant wealth into the compound itself, sparing no expense in its construction.

  Hu Shui had even sent one of his best and brightest space mages to run the Spires, though in the wake of the Bloodrock Bay incident, she had begged for reassignment. He’d granted it, as much because he wanted to keep her free of Hart’s claws as to shield her from what she had seen.

  “It’s the only constant,” the man responded lightly.

  Hu Shui nodded, giving a perfunctory and good-natured response. He no longer even had to force a smile, it came so naturally. Hart clearly knew that the expression wasn’t genuine. Despite the man’s seemingly blasé attitude, he was a keen observer.

  Like Hu Shui, he hid his true nature behind a fa?ade of benign pleasantry. Unlike was the case with Hu Shui, no one in their right mind would ever believe it. Ethera wafted off of him in dense waves, and his every movement screamed predation. Anyone with an ounce of intuition would mark him as an apex power, and that was without giving credence to Hart’s reputation.

  After all, only a couple of weeks before, he’d destroyed the better part of an outworlder army, and according to Hu Shui’s sources, he hadn’t even strained himself. His informants had also marked him as having reached the lofty level of two-forty-nine, which put him a single level away from attaining demi-god status.

  By comparison, Hu Shui’s level of two-fourteen seemed paltry, especially considering the existence of the First Wall, which his research told him lived up to its colloquial name. Ten levels that took as much experience as the previous two-forty before was intimidating, especially to a man who knew how important progression truly was.

  And not just to avoid the planet’s excisement, either.

  There were other threats out there. Whole cultures built on the idea of conquest. They would come, Hu Shui was certain. Some already had, as evidenced by the presence of nearly half a million war elves who’d already destroyed cities like Barcelona and Minsk. That they’d failed in their attempted conquest of Seattle was a matter of pure luck. If Hart had not been in the city, it would have fallen just as surely as the others in the war elves’ path.

  Of course, Hu Shui had known something was coming. The world’s teleportation system doubled as an information network, which meant he was as well-informed as anyone else in the world. He’d known there were hostile armies out there, even if he was incapable of tracking their movements, save by following the wake of destruction they left behind.

  “I know that as well as anyone,” Hu Shui remarked, leading Hart into a prepared office. From what he knew of the man, guidance was entirely unnecessary, though the Druid pretended as if he couldn’t feel everything in the compound. The rapid response to Hu Shui’s arrival had confirmed the rumors that Hart could feel everything in the area – almost like he possessed a powerful domain ability that encompassed hundreds of square miles.

  Perhaps that wasn’t so far off the mark.

  The office itself was just a repurposed conference room used by the local workers, but it had been prepared according to Hu Shui’s exacting specifications. The spiritual wood used in the construction of the table, the soft, high-grade leather chairs, and the iterative diagrams of the Spires were all meant to convey a very specific tone. Wealth and achievement.

  Hart seemed not to even notice, though Hu Shui saw the subtle flick of the man’s emerald eyes. The pair took their respective seats across from one another, and only a moment later, a woman entered with two cups of coffee.

  “You remembered,” Hart said, after thanking the assistant.

  “Of course.”

  Hu Shui took the brief opportunity to study his would-be ally. The man’s physical transformation wasn’t as overt as he might have expected, given Hart’s obvious advancement. The scales peeking out from his sleeves were a little more lustrous, and he’d even gained an inch or so in height, but otherwise, he looked much the same as he had the last time they’d met.

  But his aura was an entirely different story. Before, it had been overbearing to the point of distraction – evidence of advanced cultivation supported by no small number of levels. Now, though? It had become tyrannical. The very atmosphere shifted with his every movement, and he loomed over everything like a king looking over his subjects.

  Which included everyone he laid eyes upon.

  It sent a shiver of discomfort up Hu Shui’s spine, but he quickly suppressed it. The man might be more powerful than him, but he refused to give in to fear. He would acknowledge it, catalogue the reasons behind it, and then adjust his plans accordingly. After everything he’d been through, fear – justified though it may be – was the last thing he would allow to derail him.

  Hart took an appreciative sip of the coffee, and when he replaced the cup on its saucer, he asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Right to the point,” Hu Shui remarked with a wide smile. He could almost appreciate the bluntness, even if it robbed him of an opportunity to distract the man through niceties.

  “I find that’s usually the best way to go about things.”

  Hu Shui could appreciate that view, though he felt that it was flawed. Hart had all the power, which gave him the freedom to eschew social niceties. For everyone else – for those who needed to worry about offending others – that just wasn’t an option. By contrast, the most powerful man in the world needn’t fear anyone on Earth. He knew it, too. Everyone who dealt with him knew it, as well. And if he didn’t want to pretend otherwise, that was his prerogative.

  Would Hu Shui have taken the same route? Assuredly not. Optics mattered, even to those in power. But for a man who had no interest in ruling – as was the case with Hart – the way he was viewed by the world didn’t seem to matter. Hu Shui couldn’t afford that attitude in his own dealings.

  Even if he’d had the power – which he did not – his goals depended on a basic level of cooperation and, more than anything, order.

  “A fair assessment,” Hu Shui stated. “I wish to accompany you into the Labyrinth of Dead Gods.”

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  For a few moments, Hart didn’t respond. But then, with a sigh, he asked, “How long have you known about it?”

  “Not long,” Hu Shui admitted. Almost two years before, Conclave Explorers had discovered the existence of a Primal Realm in that region, but they’d quickly been chased away by the locals. It wasn’t until a year ago that they’d managed to reach the entrance itself. He conveyed as much to Hart, adding, “I assume that is your next stop, considering your history with Mr. Emerson.”

  “My history?”

  “You worked together in the Trial of Primacy, and my sources suggest that you visited Benediction a year ago,” Hu Shui revealed. He took a sip of his own cup of coffee, suppressing a frown at the taste. He preferred tea, but westerners enjoyed bonding over their love of the bitter drink. “Is my assumption wrong?”

  Hart shook his head. “Not really. Benedict is…complicated.”

  “The cannibalism?”

  “You know about that, huh?”

  Hu Shui nodded. Discovering that bit of information had required infiltration into Benediction, and the Explorer who’d managed it had come away truly horrified by the experience. She had told tales of ritual combat, cannibalism, and human sacrifice – all led by one of the most powerful men in the world, who his people regarded as one step from godhood.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he enjoys his position,” Hart explained. “When I visited, I got the impression that he’d started off just trying to help them survive, and things kind of spiraled out of control.”

  “Into cannibalism and human sacrifice.”

  “Yeah. They don’t kill people specifically to eat them. It’s more like they don’t let dead bodies go to waste,” Hart countered. “It’s actually pretty controlled, as far as that kind of thing can be.”

  “I see.”

  “Still doesn’t excuse it, though,” the Druid added.

  “It does not, but sometimes, we must sacrifice our moral stances for the good of all,” Hu Shui answered. “In this case, that means turning a blind eye toward despicable practices that we otherwise would not accept.”

  “Not necessarily a blind eye. More of a reluctant tolerance,” Hart allowed, shifting in his seat.

  “An apt characterization.”

  “Why do you want to come? You seem pretty well-informed, so you probably already know that I don’t need your help.”

  That was probably true. The man had already conquered four Primal Realms, two of which entirely alone. It was completely within the realm of possibility that he could overcome the Labyrinth of Dead Gods without help.

  And with Benedict Emerson, who had already proven himself one of the strongest people in the world? It wasn’t an understatement to believe that Hu Shui’s presence would be entirely superfluous. He had reason to believe otherwise, though.

  And it was time to put his cards on the table.

  “Do you have any experience with Oracles or Seers?”

  Surprisingly, Hart said that he did, though he didn’t elaborate further.

  “In your experience, are their predictions accurate?” Hu Shui asked next.

  “I’ve only dealt with one, but yeah. Accurate enough, if a little vague.”

  “Then you have the context to understand why I need to accompany you,” Hu Shui said. “A few months ago, one of my agents met a very peculiar young woman who claimed she was a Prophet. Recognizing her potential value, he invited her to Gatehold. She has lived there ever since.”

  “She told you that you need to go with me,” Hart guessed.

  “Indeed,” Hu Shui answered. “Absent any other reasons, I would not have heeded her advice. However, because it coincided with my own goals, I chose to give it credence.”

  “What other goals?”

  “Unity, primarily. You are the strongest person in the world, Mr. Hart. I think you know this,” Hu Shui explained. “You also have a history with my organization. We have worked together, and I hope that we can continue to do so as humanity writes its own story. I do not believe I am telling you anything you don’t already know when I say that the threat of excisement is not the only one looming over our people. When our planet is fully integrated, we will be faced with another wave of would-be settlers. And if we are not strong enough to hold strong, we will be washed away. I will not stand idly by while our people are killed or enslaved.”

  Since the very beginning, Hu Shui had known that Earth’s trials weren’t only related to the system itself. Colonization was an easy prediction, and the consequences were familiar to anyone with even a passing acquaintance with history. A few ragged settlers who had no other opportunities weren’t the problem. Instead, Hu Shui feared the arrival of entire armies.

  “Imagine a host of demi-gods descending upon Earth. Do we have any defense against that?”

  “The system –”

  “We cannot rely on the system to protect us,” Hu Shui interrupted. “Perhaps it will, at least for a while. However, that protection will one day fade. It is inevitable. And we must be prepared to step up and take that burden upon our own shoulders. Just as we cannot depend on the system, we cannot put our entire faith in one man. We cannot afford to sit this out and let you carry us.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Hart said. “A few months later, they were singing a different tune.”

  “You speak of the expedition into the Hollow Depths.”

  “I do.”

  Hu Shui was well aware how that had ended. Sadie Song and some of the most powerful people in the world had attempted to carve a path through the Hollow Depths so they could assault the troll Primal Realm. They had failed to make significant progress, forcing them to call upon Hart.

  “I’m not suggesting something like that. Instead, I want to form a partnership. You may not need my help in the Labyrinth of Dead Gods,” he admitted. “But we – meaning the rest of humanity – need your help. Allowing me to accompany you is part of that.”

  “I can see where you’re coming from. The only question I have is whether or not you’ll slow me down,” Hart stated, not bothering to sugarcoat his concerns. “I know Benedict can hold his own. I don’t know whether or not you can. I don’t even know your archetype, much less your level.”

  “Ranger archetype. My class is Astral Duelist. And I am level two-fourteen. I have it on good authority that I remain in the top ten highest levels among Earth’s natives,” Hu Shui explained. “I have also made sizable strides regarding cultivation, having reached the second stage in all categories, achieving the third stage of mind cultivation. I assure you, Mr. Hart, I can handle myself.”

  “Impressive,” he said.

  Not compared to him. Hu Shui had no idea as to the man’s achievements in cultivation. Reports conflicted, and even those with advanced investigatory skills failed to agree on what stages he’d reached in each category. But Hu Shui was justifiably proud of his own progress.

  “None of that is reason enough to trust in my ability to keep up, though.”

  Hart shrugged, though he didn’t dispute it. Talent in cultivation wasn’t the same as a talent for survival or combat effectiveness.

  “When the world changed, I was a paraplegic,” Hu Shui admitted. “As a teenager, I broke my back, severing my lower spine. From that point forward, I shifted my focus to academic pursuits.”

  He didn’t detail the years of depression that came from that event. Hart didn’t need to know that.

  “And I was successful, ending up in Harare as a physics professor,” Hu Shui explained. “When the World Tree touched Earth, I was convinced I would die. I think you have a similar story.”

  “Cancer.”

  “So I have heard,” he acknowledged. “Then you have some context to understand how difficult it was for me to overcome my disability. I did so, climbing my way to the top despite my infirmity. Eventually, I managed to heal my broken body.

  “I tell you this not to gain sympathy. Nor do I wish to brag. But those of us who have risen above our fates and conquered the odds know better than to dismiss the benefits of such a struggle. I am a survivor, Mr. Hart. Just like you. Should you allow me to accompany you into the Labyrinth of Dead Gods, you will see that for yourself.”

  “I see,” Hart acknowledged.

  “And your answer?”

  “If I say I need to think about it?”

  “You do not strike me as an indecisive man,” Hu Shui countered.

  Hart finally let a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Impatient is probably a better way of putting it. Impulsive, even,” he admitted. “Among a host of other character flaws.”

  “You have already made your choice. Know that, whatever you decide, I will accept it. And I hope that, regardless of that choice, we can continue to work together toward a better future for humanity.”

  Hu Shui had no interest in making an enemy of the most powerful man on Earth. He wanted to go to the Labyrinth of Dead Gods. If the Prophet was to be believed, the world’s survival demanded it.

  For a moment, Hart didn’t answer. Then, he finally said, “Okay. You can come along. But let me say this – if you betray me in any way, I will rip you apart with my own claws. Then, I will come back and destroy everything you’ve built. Do we understand one another?”

  “We do,” Hu Shui said, smiling. The last thing he wanted was to betray the man before him. Doing so would only make achieving his goals that much more difficult.

  After that, they spoke of logistics until, at last, Hart rose, saying, “I’ll contact you when I set out. I don’t intend to go until after the expedition into the Hollow Depths returns, so it might be a few more weeks.”

  “I will use that time to prepare.”

  “Good. Going into a Primal Realm is no joke, and you should approach it like it’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.”

  “I intend to.”

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