"There are cultivation techniques like that, yes."
Arthur searched the speaker's face, looking for hints. Some clue about the quality of the cultivation technique, the difficulty. In the end, he found nothing, which wasn't surprising. The Tower administrators rarely gave away information, at least on things that were important.
"How much?" he asked.
"Depends on the technique." Again, that same droll answer.
"Right, right..." Arthur drummed his fingers, and then had to ask. "The cheapest?"
"One moment." The administrator stopped looking at Arthur directly, instead accessing some invisible screen. Or maybe just recalling things. Annoying that he wasn't using the slate before him, but that would have been too easy, too easy for Arthur to spot the name, to see how many or any other details. No hints for him. "Two hundred and fifty contribution points."
"Celaka," Arthur groused and stopped leaning. Well, he certainly did not have the contribution points, even after the short run they'd done to drop off their latest acquisitions and pay down his debt. In two days though... in two days he'd get enough, if everyone kept up their jobs and paid him their share of the clan tax.
Sucked that he had to take it, but it was either that or, well... not have armour. And considering the third platform, and the fact that when they got there, they weren't coming back...
Yeah, it'd do.
On his way back to his clan hall, Arthur pondered the piece of information he'd acquired. It was important confirmation, that what he wanted to do was possible. Now, the question was this: was it worth potentially causing significant damage to himself by testing it out? After all, he also confirmed it was a full cultivation method by itself. If he pulled Tower energy and refined energy into his body, were there specific ways the energy had to flow to make sure it didn't clash? Were there things he had to do, to make sure he didn't harm himself?
Or could he muddle his way through? Was he over complicating things?
If he was the protagonist of a story, he might try it and not concern himself. Consider it his cheat method—and the gods knew, he had quite a few now for himself, though nothing that stood out. Just work the energy through him and come out stronger than anyone. But he wasn't in a bad anime, and so messing around with a cultivation technique like that would likely damage him. Maybe not permanently, since this wasn't like those cultivation stories that had been popular once, where you could cripple yourself forever.
The Tower didn't have such limitations. They'd fix you, eventually, assuming you didn't blow out an arm or something. Eventually, even damaged meridians could be healed, for the most part. So he wasn't worried about that. But if he was laid out for a month, unable to cultivate, he was definitely going to break his agreement with Casey.
And that was a big danger.
So, Arthur pondered and turned over the options, considered if he could, perhaps, buy the really cheap option. He considered it while he had the clan get itself ready for his departure, while he talked matters over with the two Ks—Kim and Karen—hoping they could hold his fifth floor. He debated testing it, until it was time to go and his new armour came.
Because when he saw his armour, most other thoughts fled.
"Damn, but I look good..." Arthur couldn't help but say, as he stood in front of the mirror after dressing.
The hide was a beautiful dark brown after the treatment and hardening. It was built using a series of simple straps, a mixture of modern-day technology and old-school techniques so that it was all adjustable. Gorget, breastplate, pauldrons, and cup and more. A full set so that it covered the entirety of Arthur's body, protected him from harm from most angles unless you managed to sneak a blow in between the overlapping leather plates.
Hot, too, or should have been, but the magic kept things to an agreeable level. Not enough to actually make Arthur comfortable, but the comfort runes embedded in the armour were part and parcel of the package and would adjust temperatures up and down five degrees. Celsius, of course. It wasn't a lot, but it did mean that he wasn't sweating his ass off, even with the light gambeson he had to wear to ensure it didn't pinch.
Mostly though, Arthur had to admit, he looked like a medieval fighter, a serious one. Or a Tower climber in a TV show, maybe Tower Climber Ed or The First Climber in season one. You know, the hero. Except, of course, he wasn't Caucasian with a square jaw and stubble, he wasn't blonde or light brown hair and perfectly studly. Or with a deeply angsty backstory.
He was just him.
Still...
"This will do, nicely." Grabbing his spear, Arthur stepped out, heading down the hallway and the ladder. It was time to test out the armour, make sure he could move in it and the best way to do that was sparring. He also wanted to keep testing out some of his new techniques, and practice was about the only way to do it.
There might, also, be a couple who he needed to try his hand against.
"Wah! So nice, ah." Leia teased, leaning against the post that marked one corner of their impromptu ring. A couple of other posts and cheap ropes hung around the area marked off the ring, mostly so that others didn't randomly wander in and get smacked.
"Funny," Arthur said. "You ready?" He slipped between the ropes with ease, guiding his spear between the two and walking to the center. He had the training cap on it, just in case of accidents.
"Of course, lah." Leia kicked her spear into hand, the much shorter weapon shifting as she wandered forwards.
Arthur never did get that, her using a short weapon despite her short height, but she'd made it work for herself. On the other side, Eric continued to glower at everyone, a piece of straw stuck in his mouth as he chewed on it rather than a toothpick.
"Ready—" Arthur never finished, easily blocking the spear head that shot forwards to his chest. That was not a trick that he or anyone else who trained with their sifu was going to miss. Nor was Leia expecting him to, since she kept coming.
Holding his spear in two hands, Arthur blocked high and low, pushing his spear to keep her away from him even as he retreated under her relentless barrage and quick footwork.
Jab, disengage under, pull the backhand close and pivot the front of the spear to smack against the spear coming in. Sent it off-line just an inch at point of contact, which meant that by the time it reached his body it was off by a foot or more. Keep moving, raising the backhand up even as you pulled the front hand back, shuttling the spear backwards so that the point kept in-line and threatening. Then, push down with the backhand, send the shaft striking outwards at knee and thigh and in between, even as you pivoted.
Movement, always movement.
Even as he fought, Arthur found himself falling into the old rhythm. It was different, very different, fighting humans rather than monsters. The techniques one used against someone wielding a weapon were different compared to a raving monster with four legs instead of two and intent on eating your face.
With monsters there were no groin strikes, you could cut and tear open arms that came searching for you. Even pin them on your spear head, slam the tip of the staff butt into eyes that were lower to the ground or kick and hop backwards at the same time to catch leaping monsters. Sweeps were less useful, but knees became much more interesting as were elbows that dropped in close to strike heads.
Spinning staves that could strike and move, block attacks coming from behind, catch leaping monkeys in the air or lizardmen swinging from vines were less useful against a fighter that was smart enough to shorten their spear, slipping their attack in moments after your block was finished.
Or that wanted to target your poor fingers.
"Aaargh!" Arthur cursed, fingers going numb as she clipped his forehand. He let the spear drop rather than try to grip it, shifting close so that her next attack could not stab him, eating a jab into his ribs that he didn't even feel and he struck with his elbow. Slam into the cheek, splitting skin as she staggered backwards, only for him to kick the dropped spear, sending the edge hopping upwards and smacking her own hand and spear.
Then, shift, using a single hand, push as it dropped. Control it, just enough that it struck her inner thigh.
A crippling blow, for the inner thigh rarely was hit enough to toughen up.
She cursed, fell. And then, a hand streaked. Across the air, coming to a stop at the edge of her neck. Knife hand strike to throat, potentially fight ending. Probably not...
But school rules. No fatal blows. And the fight ends when it is landed.
After fifteen seconds.
Which was why Arthur struck, pulled back, and defended against a wildly swinging spear before he skidded to a stop.
After all, sometimes, people or monsters took a bit to realise they were dead.
And wasn’t that another useful life lesson.