[1% LIFESTEAL] Chapter 24 - Party

Freddy crawled out of bed, feeling perfectly rested. He washed himself up, had breakfast, and proceeded to a particular drawer.

Given how little shopping he did, there was little garbage to deal with. But, when a bit of trash did show up, all he had to do was throw it down a small hatch in his kitchen. Thus, without any ceremony, he threw a wrapped plastic bag into the hatch and turned around without care—as if he didn’t just throw away the most valuable thing he possessed.

For anyone observing, what he just did would seem like the most inconspicuous action he had made that day. But in reality, he had likely just solved his biggest problem.

He had instructed Bloodshed to wait until the trash reached the dump yard and then continue waiting, never leaving its bag until roughly two years had passed.

Personified ether constructs seldom hid unless that had something to do with their concept, and even then, they rarely did so where it would be troublesome to find them. Even if they accidentally ended up inside a compressed space like a closed bag, they would almost immediately leave, as it would take nearly no effort to crawl out.

The dump yard was no doubt a jungle of miscellaneous vestiges that could be useful, so the only way for Bloodshed to reliably remain hidden was to stay inside the crumpled bag.

The reason why he picked two years was somewhat arbitrary. He first landed on that number because it seemed the safest, but then contemplated whether a year would be safe enough or if he should make it five or ten years. But it didn’t make much difference.

As it stood, it seemed that Freddy’s situation had changed. Given Madam's anger, it was likely that she had been accused of taking the unique. This did not make Freddy any safer and certainly didn’t improve his situation. While he was no longer a target for assassination, they would still likely ask him whether Madam had taken the unique.

And they probably wouldn’t ask very nicely.

So, if he couldn’t bank on Madam’s help and couldn’t stop being a suspect, there were scarce few ways for him to clear his name. However, one idea came to mind, and it didn’t take long for him to turn it into a plan—it was time for Freddy to go to prison.

He walked over to the tablet and ordered himself an extra large cappuccino. There was no reason to watch his health, so he didn’t have to deny himself. It arrived quickly, and he sat on the couch in his living room, sipping the coffee and contemplating his plans.

He was still trying to think of the best crime to commit. The murder had already been thoroughly covered, so he needed something else. Drugs sounded nice, but maybe robbery was better.

The reason why prison seemed like the best option was simple—it was because that would grant him partial immunity. He would likely still get a few visitors and have to answer a few questions, but he would probably survive as there would be no real merit in killing him.

If he finished his work with Madam and then got kidnapped by someone, they’d torture Bloodshed’s location out of him and kill him regardless of whether they found it or not.

If Freddy was incarcerated, this would give Janhalar all the time in the world to check every possible hiding place where Freddy might have hidden Bloodshed, and by the time Freddy was out, there would be no more reason to care about him. By then, at least in the eyes of anyone watching, the unique would be long gone, either used or lost from the start.

The main drawback of ending up in prison was that one would be away from society. They would be cut off from loved ones and friends and lose years of their lives simply waiting behind bars, caged like animals.

None of that was an issue to Freddy.

He had no family, and Mark was practically his only friend, and God knew their friendship wasn’t on particularly solid ground. Given that 1% Lifesteal could remove aging, Freddy could stay in prison for a hundred years, and it would make no difference.

There were a few issues with having a criminal record, but that was preferable to being dead.

For now, the plan was simple. Mooch off Madam while he was still valuable to her, and once the interview was over, it was time to unsuccessfully rob a bank or something. Then, he would get arrested, go to prison, wait for Bloodshed, hide it, wait to get out, and go on his merry way.

Even with a criminal record, as long as he had 1% Lifesteal, Essence Extraction, and Bloodshed, he had all he needed to succeed as an independent arch. And, hopefully, before anyone could even realize what happened, he’d become a five-star arch and do whatever the hell he wanted.

If there was any one word that described Freddy best, it was bitter. Endlessly bitter at how unfair the world was and how willing those in power were to abuse it. Before he could even begin to think about building a life and looking for happiness, he had to get strong enough to defend it first.

He finished the last sip of his drink, downing it with gusto, and got up. It was time to go to the gym.

***

The next day, the day of the party he was invited to, Freddy finished his workout and headed home with Mark by his side.

“You sure your arm’s fine?” Freddy asked for the twentieth time that day.

“I told you, it’s ok, stop worrying about it,” Mark responded with undisguised frustration.

“Ah… aight.” Freddy walked on silently for a while, but eventually, he added, “I can smell it from here, you know.”

Mark’s legs froze, and he stopped.

Freddy turned to face him. “You ok?”

“Yeah… just… I’m just feeling a little tired.”

Freddy paused for a while before nodding. “I get it. I’ll stop asking.”

“Y—Yeah. Thanks.”

They walked on in silence, and this time, before Freddy could even invite him for lunch, Mark slammed the door to his apartment shut.

***

Freddy returned early from his training in the woods, and as soon as he entered his bedroom, he noticed something strange.

A rack of clothing was there, probably delivered while he was out. The problem was that the overwhelming majority of the clothes were just goofy as all hell.

‘Fuck no, I ain’t wearing that’ was his only response to most of it.

Ridiculous combinations of colors, black leather with holes in very revealing places, what amounted to basically just string covering barely anything, and more perverted, gross rich people stuff.

He contemplated moving his prison plan forward. This was to say that he was wondering whether to get arrested today to get out of having to go to this party, but he assumed that that would land him in trouble with Madam.

With a deep sigh, he picked the most ordinary clothes he could find. They were an ultra-slim-fit white shirt and black pants that appeared mostly normal but were made of exquisitely soft material.

There were a couple of glass boxes of jewelry, and he did his best to pretend that the do-it-yourself piercing kit wasn’t there as he contemplated his options. This jewelry, while not super-high-end, was definitely quite pricy.

He picked a watch, an annoyingly thick gold necklace that screamed, ‘I’m an arrogant bastard,’ and a small, elegant platinum ring.

The first order of business was taking a shower, and once done, he put everything on and got a good look at himself in the mirror.

It was hard to say that he was beautiful, but it was impossible to deny that he was handsome. His tanned skin was so smooth that he could see the light reflected off it, his hair was healthy and thick, his eyes clear, his teeth perfectly aligned, and most importantly, his utterly hairless jaw was chiseled to perfection.

That wasn’t even touching on his body, which, in the super tight shirt, showed the complete outline of his impressive muscles, even allowing faint lines of his thick veins to shine through.

‘Oh yeah,’ he thought arrogantly, ‘I wonder if Matt is gonna watch if I bring someone over tonight.’

Speaking of Matt, the man didn’t take long to show up. “I see you’re already prepared to leave,” the assistant said.

With a fat grin, Freddy answered, “I see you’ve been observing.”

***

Mark punched his father with a good deal of strength, and the man tumbled to the ground, Mark’s mother screaming and his sister crying hysterically.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he stared at the old man on the ground, teeth bared, “Don’t you fucking dare,” he spat venomously.

“Stop! Just stop!” His sister screamed. “You have to get treate—” her words were cut off as Mark raised his healthy hand for a moment, quickly restraining himself.

He tried reaching down for her, but she was already backing away. Mark didn’t let her get far as he grabbed her arm and spoke to her, “Listen to me, Sarah. I won’t have it. You’re going to the academy,” he said, mania in his expression.

“Son, please calm down,” his father said, getting off the floor with a massive bruise on his face. “We, no, your sister doesn’t want to see you like this!”

“Shut up!” Mark yelled. “Shut… the fuck up… I’m not having it. If you cancel her admission to the academy, I swear to God I won’t have anything to do with any of you again. I’m going to disown you if you dare do that.”

“Please…” Sarak cried.

His mother strode forward carefully, biting her lip as he swallowed the lump in her throat and said bitterly, “But you’re going to lose it…”

“So what?” He spat. “You think using the money for the scholarship to pay for my treatment is a good idea?” He continued, tearing up and taking a few steps back. “I’ll solve the issue of my arm eventually. If she misses it now, she’ll never get to go to the academy.”

“I don’t care!” Sarah yelled. “I don’t want to go to the stupid academy!”

Mark tried smiling, but it just looked like a scowl. Determined, he walked over to the door and headed out of the apartment. “You don’t have a choice. I’m going to have it amputated immediately.” He slammed the door shut as he walked outside, leaving nothing but silence, scarcely interrupted by sobbing, behind.

***

The default way that Freddy reacted to seeing new things was a wide-eyed mouth drop and an internal dialogue about how absurd it was.

This time, things were different. As he walked into the seizure-inducing ‘club,’ one filled to the brim with flashing lights, smoke which, once inhaled, actually served to recover some essence in his ether star, extremely loud, horrid music, and colors, be it the floor tiles, furniture, ceiling, or the people around him, the only thing that went through his mind was, ‘I literally can’t see shit.’

This place was more akin to a warzone than it was a party. No matter where he stood, he could barely see a couple of feet in any direction, and with the tight crowds, blaring noise, and more than one puff of smoke that caused more than just essence recovery to spin through his mind, he felt thoroughly disoriented.

He didn’t know whether this was just a particular breed of rich bastard, but if ever among the wealthy, he vowed to join the crowd that preferred medieval-esque tea parties over brain-rot festivals like this one.

Matt stood ahead of him and asked one of the waiters a few questions. Neither of the two men was yelling or leaning closer, marking the impressive hearing of—

‘Wait.’

Was the waiter a two-star arch!? A three-star!? What the hell kind of service….?

It didn’t take long for Matt to nod to the waiter and wave at Freddy to follow him. After a short but gruesome trek through the suffocating mass of bodies, Freddy was plopped down at a small private section, seated on a round couch facing a small table.

When he was brought there, he was utterly alone, but it didn’t take long for others to be brought to sit beside him. The vast majority of people sitting there were complete strangers, but to his surprise, he recognized a man who sat next to him.

It was a face that made Freddy panic a little, but he restrained those feelings as he waved at the handsome individual and greeted him, “Hey! Remember me?” Freddy yelled, but the man clearly didn’t struggle to hear him.

The man said something in what was likely a completely regular tone of voice but soon realized that Freddy couldn’t hear him, so he leaned in and yelled a bit, “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall ever seeing you before.”

Freddy was about to yell back but restrained his voice as he realized the man didn’t need to strain to hear him. “You’re the spear user that saved my life during the break!”

The man frowned at that. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that! I saved a number of people back then!”

“I’m the first person you saved!”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that. The first person I saved was one of the victims.”

“Yeah! That was me!”

“What!?” The man seemed incredulous. “No, it was this man that tried—!”

“Yeah! That was me!” Freddy repeated himself.

The man gave him a once over, mouth agape. “You must be joking!” He chuckled a bit. “What the hell kind of magical potion did you drink!?”

Freddy cackled merrily at that one. “Oh, you don’t even want to know!”

Soon, the drinks arrived, and the man introduced himself, “My name is John, by the way!”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Freddy!”

The man looked over and flashed a grin at Freddy as he pointed subtly with his thumb.

Freddy turned around, spotting a group of girls that sat on the other side of the table, waving at the two men invitingly and patting empty spots beside them.

***

Mark had rushed out of his apartment, fully determined to head to the closest hospital and have his arm cut off. But it didn’t take long for his steps to wane and his will to crumble.

Hiding on a small bench tucked behind a few trees on the island, he sobbed hysterically, unable to hold back the tears. It burned so bad. And he could feel the pain slowly moving up.

It just didn’t feel real. How was it even possible to fall so low in such a short time? It felt as if he stood with his teammates just yesterday, one among the elite, a trailblazer of the next generation of archs that would take humanity to new heights.

Sobbing on that bench, he barely even felt like the same person.

He shouldn’t have delved so much. His efforts had been putting his family back on track, but pure hubris led him to this situation. Even if they would have dragged him down, he should have found a new team. Even if that would make his profits dwindle, he should have taken a more extensive break between expeditions.

And now…

It wasn’t impossible to fix an arm like this, far from it. But it was just so expensive, costing millions of dollars.

What rotted his arm wasn’t an ordinary infection. He had gotten struck by a death-attuned ability, a claw swing of a ravager raptor. A strike he would have dodged had he not been so tired. Removing the infection would take a high-level light, nature, water, or life affinity spell, and actually fixing the damage could require as long as three months of daily healing.

Perhaps if he wasn’t so useless, he could join an organization and have them pay for the treatment as an advance payment for his services. But he had tried. Nobody wanted him. He had tried requesting it from Madam, too. She promptly refused.

Regardless of how hard one worked, if one's talent was judged to be underwhelming, they stood no chance.

Mark was still a one-star arch. Ascending was serious business, and before one went up, it was wise to first achieve the full potential of their rank. Rare events caused bursts of ether, and incredible feats accomplished the same thing but deep within one’s soul.

The quality of one’s talent evolution depended on how much they achieved at their current rank. Mark had already done a lot, but not enough to evolve his mediocre talent into an incredible one. Postponing his ascension to the second star was another greedy, selfish act that brought him to this situation.

He should have put the thoughts of stardom to rest as soon as he dropped out of the academy. He should have just ascended. He should have rested, he should have found teammates, he should have—he should have never gotten this job.

The weight of his sins and the height of his despair brought him up to his feet. Absent-mindedly, he walked forward, soon reaching the edge of the island.

The jump down was so far. And the thought of taking the leap felt way too natural. He wasn’t nearly that much of a coward to do it, though. But having the option there felt just a bit comforting. It was like being a prisoner and having the keys. There was solace in having the option of freedom.

In the corner of his vision, he spotted someone appear. It didn’t take him long to recognize the man—the same person that got him into this situation—the ‘slimy journalist.’ That persona was nowhere to be seen this time around, however.

He was well-dressed, standing confidently, gazing down at the city like many a pompous arch looked at those below them.

Rage flooded Mark’s body, but he knew that he stood no chance against this person. And other than that… he couldn’t bring himself to speak. A sinful, disgusting desire sparked in Mark’s soul, and the man turned to face him.

“You just have to answer one question, Mr. Afronte.”

Mark didn’t respond, his breath speeding up and his heart raging wildly.

“Does Freddy Stern, to your knowledge, possess a blood-affinity remnant?”