Their training schedule over the next two weeks left much to be desired. Calisthenics between breakfast and lunch. Self-directed sparring between lunch and dinner. Low level resources with the meals. Otherwise it was confinement to the barracks with the expectation that they would be cultivating and body enhancing.

And Hector did a lot of both. He hid his chaos cultivation by doing it only in the latrine, the washroom, and the reservoir room that held the cistern of drinking water. He wasn't the only person who hid away for hours at a time – constantly being surrounded by others wore on a lot of his peers. The difference was that those stolen hours empowered Hector.

He didn't even have to worry about evidence of his insight being found. The lime water and powder pill and specialty food items redirected his energy reserves to his body in quite drastic fashion. His cosmic energy joined with what was in the items he consumed to rapidly enhance his body. That drain on his reserves ensured that no one would notice anything unusual about him unless they caught him in the act.

Hector eagerly directed his enhancement like the conductor of a symphony. Shoulder blades, collar bones, jaw, kneecap, feet. He completed his entire skeleton in no time at all. Then came the tendons, which he struggled mightily with. He started with the knee joints and that went well enough, even if it took longer than he thought it should. Then he went to work on the connective tissue of his hands.

His plan for the upcoming matches was to be able to take a lot of damage and deal it out in return, which meant he needed his fists to be solid. Too bad there were so many tendons and ligaments and bursa sacs to focus on. Hector powered through the difficulties presented by his lack of precision by pushing more energy than necessary to get the job done.

During one of his visits to the washroom, he heard footsteps arrive and then amorous sounds come from one of the other stalls. He emerged a bit later, finding the distraction too great, and ran into the lovers as they opened their own door. Micah nodded to Hector casually and left, leaving Jasmine standing there awkwardly.

He broke the silence first. "Opposition research?"

"More like bribing. You know he's going to destroy all of us, right?"

"You think a little hanky panky is going to convince him to throw your match?"

"I think he might be gentler when he kicks my ass." Jasmine straightened up her gladiator uniform, checked herself in the mirror, and then walked to the door. "By the way, Hector, you're not as sneaky as you think. I know you've got some cultivation trick. Better not be filtering chaos. That's sacrificing your future for your present."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

She stopped at the door. "I'm serious, Hector. You can recover from a lot of things, but not poisoning your soul. The rewards offered by this tournament aren't worth an early grave. I swear by Tian itself I'm not trying to play you."

"I understand, Jasmine. I promise I'm not doing anything too dangerous."

Hector returned to his bunk then and tried not to think about Jasmine in that stall with Micah. Despite the deadly seriousness of his situation, he'd let his priorities slip a little. Every day for sparring the two of them paired up. It was to the point that others assumed they were hooking up. And though she wasn't the type of woman he typically preferred, their intense interactions had begun to have an effect on him. He certainly had devoted some brain power to imagining her undressed.

Somehow he was slipping up in his priorities. He was making phenomenal progress on his body enhancement, it was true. It also could not be denied that he developed a small crush on the rude, crude, and curvy Jasmine. None of that could be allowed to distract him from his most urgent goal of escaping before the Lord Platinum turned him into a cultivation resource for someone else.

Yet no matter how much cultivation he performed, Hector remained a man. His last time being intimate with a woman had been a year and a half prior with Rosa. He was in close proximity to Jasmine every day as they sparred. Their playful banter held a certain edge to it that he found exciting. So his mind went the typical places.

But was the interest mutual or only from his side? What did it say about her that she was sneaking off with Malachi? Was it telling that she continued to pair up with him in training every day? Did he even actually like this woman in the first place or was he just horny? Each of those questions stuck in his mind, complications that he did not need. He kept reminding himself that his greatest desire in his current situation was to no longer be part of this tournament.

In the afternoon of the next day, he arranged to come out late for practice. As he'd hoped, Jasmine paired off with someone else. Excellent. He could get her out of his head. Except the only person open for partnering was the eunuch, who Hector had not interacted with up to that point.

The man was tall and carried a lot of weight in his hips so that he looked a little like a bowling pin. His hair was thick, his cheeks chubby, and his face clear of stubble. His appearance was within the bounds of what a normal man could look like, so his peculiarity was by no means obvious just from appearance. It was rather his voice that gave him away.

The eunuch sounded like an old woman no matter what efforts he made to lower his tone. And he very obviously made an effort, which only added an odd husky quality to it. It was sad how the group ostracized one of their number, but the only virtue Hector was concerned about at the moment was 'not becoming an elixir'. He could be charitable when his life wasn't on the line.

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"It looks like Oldie is stuck with Eunuch," the man's shrill voice announced. Though the words were self-deprecating, Hector saw old rage in those eyes.

"Oldie goes by the name of Hector."

"Only if you call me Darius."

"Let's get started, Darius. What do you want to work on?"

"I have some standard combat drills from my world I'd like to run through."

So that's what they did. Darius taught Hector the sequences and they worked through them, alternating in the role of attacker and defender. It was mostly based around outfighting, but there was a small amount of clinch work leading to trips or nasty elbows. The eunuch was a polished fighter. Far more so than Hector would have expected. His movements were sharp, precise, and well timed.

"What kind of martial tradition is this?"

"It was common on my world."

"Are you a dreamer?"

Darius's lip twitched. "I'm a legacy."

"Did you have much combat experience?"

"I was the most powerful man on my world," Darius said, then picked up the pace to forestall any further conversation. The eunuch put Hector through his paces, requiring a degree of rapid response that he wasn't ready for.

Between sparring Jasmine and Darius, he'd had his horizons broadened. He might be strong, but he lacked the degree of fight intelligence necessary to be a brawler. If necessary, he could develop that capacity. It would require him to take time away from other things, though. And Hector didn't think he intended to punch and kick enough to justify splitting his attentions that way. This tournament was the only gladiatorial experience he ever intended to have.

After dinner, Jasmine pulled Hector aside to the reservoir room as they entered the barracks. The large stone cistern had a wide lip that people could sit on when they dipped the ewer to get a drink. It didn't live up to Hector's standards of sanitation, but he'd decided to trust his Xian immune system on this one.

"Are you upset with me, Hector?"

"Our alliance is strong, Jasmine."

She looked down and huffed a fake laugh. "You're mad about Micah."

"I'm sparring different opponents because I need to fight everyone here."

Jasmine looked up suddenly and his breath caught. "If you want something, Hector, then maybe you should ask for it."

"And how many men here are asking for the same thing?"

Her expression darkened. "Now this I did not see coming. If you want some innocent soul who blushes at the thought of seeing a man in the buff, then I'm nothing you'd ever be interested in. I thought you were more worldly than that."

The two of them stared at each other. Her jab wasn't without merit. Hector wasn't obsessed with pure virginal maidens. Why did he care so much? The only answer he could see wasn't something he wanted to admit even to himself.

Thankfully, he was saved from the need to justify himself by an unlikely source.

"Looks like the lovers fell out of heaven," Evan crowed from the entrance to the reservoir room. "Hector's afraid his tiny pecker would disappoint an experienced woman!"

He turned to look at the loud-mouthed red-head, who was miming the act of wiping tears from his eyes. "Want to hear some dirt, Evan? The lady over there is halfway blind. See what you can make of that fact."

When he turned his eyes to Jasmine, she looked surprisingly chill. No anger, real or feigned. No indication that she recognized he'd played his agreed part in their little alliance. She appeared unfazed by words entirely.

Jasmine sat there, working her mouth for a few moments, and then stood. She walked forward and spat a large quantity of saliva onto his face. "Contrary to what you've heard, it's his left arm that's messed up."

Evan brayed his laughter like a donkey. "Damn fools, just ratting each other out like that."

Hector splashed water onto his face to remove the spit and pushed past Evan to return to his bunk. He didn't know what should be happening in his head after everything that had just gone down. How real was their argument? If he had to guess, their alliance survived while their friendship had not.

He ran over scenarios in his mind, unsure of what he could have done differently. Entering into a relationship with a woman who was spreading the love around… he didn't think he could do that. Asking her to become exclusive out of the blue also didn't feel right. Who was he to her? That was the question, of course. That was always the question in these kinds of situations.

It had been easy with Rosa. She was enamored of his perceived special status and threw herself at him. It had been easy with Jen back in the day. She was such an earnest, warm soul that he never felt like he was taking a risk. Evelyn… that one hadn't been planned and always had an obvious expiration date.

Hector had no charisma, no charm. He was a man who kept himself in shape, reliably made good money, and felt confident in his own identity. That attracted the attention of enough women to give him a certain level of validation. He didn't have any skill to draw any woman who didn't already perceive his value.

And he wasn't here to hook up anyway. His focus had to be on the immanent threat of death.

So he doubled down on his cultivation. Word of their drama spread fast in the barracks, so Hector had ample reason to seek privacy. He claimed a stall in the washroom and began to draw forth chaos at a fierce rate. Having less time to dedicate to that practice, he'd been working harder when the opportunity existed. As a result, Hector had stimulated his externality in a way he hadn't during his long, slow sessions back on Union Central. He was growing ever faster at taming chaos.

At least something was going right.

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