Nyx was growing increasingly frustrated. Nox’Rictus was more stubborn than he had assumed. He refused to return to the more friendly type of conversation that he had shown during their earlier encounters. Being jovial acquaintances was apparently acceptable, while trying to ally with him against the Spear Saint Mountain Group put him squarely into a corner that was refused any sort of friendly treatment.

  While the assault on his person had likely reminded Rictus of grimmer realities and his place in this world and within his own family, the concept was utterly foreign to Nyx. He could not imagine being so stubborn even when no one else was present. If he had drawn lines in public, Nyx would understand. Family politics mattered to them a great deal. But to even adhere to it in such a situation, where no one would bear witness to how they spoke to one another? It was odd.

  The healing ward had cleansed his own fatigue, and Nox’Rictus’s face was already looking a lot better. Within the next few hours, the deeper wounds would start to heal, and he would likely be moving comfortably by tomorrow. Nyx could only imagine how much this must have cost. The young master Rax’Rathos was taking good care of his… cousin? How were the two related within their clan structure?

  He would have asked, but the formal way of speaking made him want to gouge his eyes out. It was like talking to a mask. Besides, his ‘argument’ with Nox’Rictus would expire in a few minutes and expel him from the mansion. His deeply furrowed displeasure must have been clearly visible on his face, as the Aurelius Vox demon chided him for it.

  “Nyx’Sol, do away with your displeasure. It is unseemly. May I inquire what bothers you so?” Rictus said before he continued trying to fish part of a broken tooth out of his inner cheek.

  What was bothering him? The fact that a fellow sect initiate was so immensely prideful about his family? No, that was not it. Nyx could understand that. He was proud of his family as well, and he had no doubt that he would protect them at any cost. His mother and father, to whom he owed so much; his younger siblings, whom he cared for deeply; and even his older siblings, many of whom he had not yet met. They had all grown up the same way he had—tending to the same farmstead and animals, harvesting the same corn, and creating many of the farm's pathways and fields that he had maintained.

  “My apologies. It was not my intention.” Nyx tried to put it into words, figuring out his feelings on the matter as he spoke, much contrary to Nox’Rictus’s careful facade of formality. “Something bothers me, but I cannot put my mind to the exact thing. The Spear Saint Group being in conflict with me is not it. Neither is the fact that they are attacking you. My fighting them has nothing to do with the conflict you have with them.”

  Nyx made a slight throwing motion with his hand, metaphorically throwing the thought away. While saying that it had nothing to do with it was not quite accurate—after all, it bothered him that they could have attacked the one person he was competing with in terms of cultivation—the one thing that irked him was how these cultivators were thinking. A sect should strive to tie its students together closely. What was this petty infighting between clans accomplishing? Nothing.

  “What bothers me—” Nyx paused, still struggling for the right words. “You have seen how the Spear Saint Mountain Group goes about controlling their territory.”

  “Yes?” Rictus eyed him curiously before quickly returning to his more formal speech. “I mean—naturally, it has not escaped my notice how they operate like lowly insects. Even ants may move a mantis in large numbers.”

  Nyx rolled his eyes after closing them and continued unabated. “One of them, Azrx’Ibahros, argued to me that they behave the way they do because their tyrant behavior is good for everyone—because otherwise, mere chaos reigns. It bothers me.”

  Rictus nodded. “A might-makes-right argument. They are stronger, so they are right.” He paused thoughtfully. “It is a dominant opinion of many cultivators. After all, we are all under the Honored Demon Ancestor’s protection, and without his tyrannical guidance—and I am not saying that it is a bad thing—it has brought us prosperity and a safe haven within the demon world for millennia.”

  Nyx scowled at the argument. How could one deflect all blame and responsibility simply because the demon god was an all-powerful deity? It was cheap. “It is not fair to deflect the entire argument like that! That system gives resources to people who have a fraction of the talent and determination of others that I have seen. They stalk around with pride and arrogance, like they deserve it. Is the group even that strong? They just have numbers.”

  “Why not join them, then? You could try to change them from the inside. It is the same as your joining the Verdant Reflection Sect, is it not? They are tyrants of the region, imposing their rules, shaping their territory as they see fit, and you joined them too.” Rictus sat back with an amused smile on his still quite bruised face.

  “You are saying that it is no different?” Nyx cupped his cheek with his right hand, thoughtfully scratching his temple with his claws, the bone relieving an itching sensation. “I suppose… I will assume you are right, but since I have never seen any unjust actions that are destructive to the sect or its talent… how could it bother me at all? It bothers me precisely because I know.”

  The purple-skinned demon shrugged. “Is it your ignorance, then, that makes you so blissful? Go forth and forget, then. Be happy. Content.”

  Did Nox’Rictus think the same way? He knew the argument at least, but it did not seem that he agreed. Nyx frowned. He had thought about this before! Of course. “You have considered all of this before, right?”

  “Indeed. The Hestáia are all taught ethics and morality from an early age. What is right? What is wrong? If I am unaware of evil, does that excuse me? Am I a good person if I'm just not aware of it?” Rictus asked him with a coy smile.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Yes. How could one not be? That did not make anyone a bad person. “Yes?” he asked, less sure than he had been a second ago. “I have seen their behavior. How could I ever join them now?”

  “Well, you see, ignorance is not moral failure—you are not wrong. But it does not make you good either. I can tell you story after story about the Verdant Reflection Sect that would make you view them similarly. After I tell you… what are you going to do? Act? Or continue as you have?”

  Nyx sank back into his chair in frustration. “What could someone without strength do? Is that not what you are going to say? That they are right, after all? There has to be a better way of doing things.”

  “Oh, there is. I assure you, Nyx’Sol. There have been many smart demon cultivators before our time. Clans rise and fall, views change. Opinions about morality exist like cultivators… no grain of sand is the same in this desert of power that we live in.” He glanced to the left and frowned. “I am afraid our time has come to an end. Thank you for visiting me, Sol. If you want to continue our talk tomorrow, come find me.” He handed Sol a little white book. “It is one of the Hestáia founders’ ways of morality. We are proud and loyal servants—to the death and beyond, from this life into the next. I doubt you will glean much insight for yourself from it, but it cannot hurt to learn new perspectives. Lay low for today.”

  Nyx nodded at his friend's advice. At least, he would consider him a friend. Even if such a thing was foolish, considering the Aurelius Vox denied themselves alliances with outsiders. It was alright. He would accept that as it was. They had their traditions.

  Why had his own parents never taught morality? Or had they?

  A sense of urgency suddenly made itself known. His heartbeat accelerated in alert, and a mere five seconds later, Sol was dragged through the building and placed at the estate entrance by an invisible force. It had pulled him through the floorboards and wooden doors—an odd feeling.

  He stepped outside slowly when the sensation returned once more and was immediately greeted by a blade near his neck.

  “Who are you?!” the blue-skinned demon he had observed before yelled in clear frustration. “You better not have touched my patient.”

  “I’m a friend of his,” Nyx claimed, before the raised eyebrow made him elaborate. “At least, that is what I think. Acquaintance, maybe?”

  “What is your name? You are not part of the Aurelius Vox faction here. Who do you belong to?” the demon sharply questioned.

  Nervousness at the sudden interrogation was quickly quelled by his focus skill, granting him a relaxed confidence. “It is rather rude to threaten someone for their name when you have not introduced yourself.” Now it was Nyx’s turn to raise his eyebrow, mimicking the blue-skinned demon’s earlier gesture.

  He hummed. “Tell me, or we both go on a vacation in detention.” He inched his sharp blade closer to Nyx’s flesh, his eyes serious and determined.

  Huh. He was serious about the tradeoff. Was he trying to protect his investment? They could have paid a large sum of money for his services—compared to others, anyway.

  “Nyx’Sol. And you are?”

  The man withdrew his blade—a short surgical knife that quickly disappeared within his robes. “You should have said this immediately. Everybody knows you are not with them by now.”

  “By now?” Nyx asked curiously. “What do you mean by that?”

  The demon raised a spotless, white news card. “You have rejected their recruitment, and they are looking for you now.”

  The implication made Nyx shift uncomfortably, even through his confidence-laden bones. “I see. I should find a safe spot—or at least stay near one, then.”

  “Not everyone is allied with the Spear Saint Mountain.” He smiled. “Come, I will allow you some respite and anonymity. Let us hurry, though.”

  He started running at a leisurely pace, rounding the homes of the Spear Saint Mountain group and avoiding their patrols by dragging Nyx into some bushes here, some thorny vines there.

  He had not even introduced himself.

  Nyx considered leaving on his own, provoking more people and having them chase him around. But nighttime had arrived, the library was closed, and more than a few homes on their way had visitors with ‘arguments’ in progress.

  Finally, he realized. “The other initiates protect themselves by visiting each other’s homes?”

  “Well, no. Not quite. If you do this—” he gestured toward one of the barriers, “then the Spear Saint Mountain group assumes you are afraid. You are not trying to fight back. So they do not consider investing resources into conflict with you.”

  “Resources?” Nyx asked.

  “Their numbers.” He nodded. “Each time they assault and beat someone down harshly to make a statement, they lose them for seven days. If they overextend using the tactic before they recover manpower, they will be replaced as the dominant force. They try to avoid that, even though it happens sometimes—for a while. Then they regain the upper hand again, and it begins anew.”

  A cycle of violence and rule of the ‘strong.’ Strength, in this case, meant numbers.

  Nyx was still preoccupied with the arguments Rictus had made. “How would you rule if you were them?”

  The blue-skinned demon raised both eyebrows before frowning. “I’m not sure.” His claws slid through his hair, slicking it back. “I wouldn’t bother. What do I care about controlling the spots and houses? A simple home is good enough until you advance.”

  “If you had to rule? Would you also do it through power? Just by having superior numbers?” Nyx pressed on.

  “I’m too preoccupied. Not everyone is brought up in a home of gold and jade, with servants and lickspittles. I don’t need a fancy home. Comfort is not everything, and I have too much to do. Earning sect points to gain access to resources for medical training is not easy, you know?”

  He stopped walking and pointed toward the home they had just passed. “I know that this one is leaving soon. You may visit there and hide yourself for an hour. And then—” he stretched to point at the other side, a cabin beyond the current home, “over there. Hide in the bushes if you want to avoid being seen.” He waved. “See you around.”

  Well, Nyx could not demand his name after so much kindness. He would ask him next time.

  But the man had raised a salient point. What was comfort really worth to those not used to it?

  He cupped his chin and repeatedly tapped it with his claws, reminiscing about a new argument as he slinked into the shadows of the house, waiting.

  Inside, he heard soft impacts and groaning. They were arguing. Not just visiting.

  Be that as it may, Sol thought, the argument was interesting.

  What if there was a system that was entirely organized and enforced by one resource other than violence?

  Money.