[1% LIFESTEAL] Chapter 22 - Annoying Enemy

As Freddy walked into the gym, Mark greeted him, “Hey, Freddy, what’s up?” Then, he asked the dreaded question, “So… did that guy come after you?”

“Nah,” Freddy lied. “He must have pussied out.”

“I see… I personally think you should apologize.”

Freddy remained quiet.

Mark continued, “I know you didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s much better to take a small hit to your pride than deal with trouble that isn’t worth it.”

Freddy looked at Mark with a distant gaze and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

It didn’t take Freddy particularly long to rationalize his actions. That guy was a dumbass, and he could have gone after someone else. If that had happened, the roles could have been reversed.

No matter how he thought of it, that idiot was a hostile maniac who should have been taken out. In fact, he was willing to go as far as to say that if placed in that situation again, he’d make the same choices, even knowing the results.

But… his excuses didn’t change anything,

Every time his essence was full, a part felt like it didn’t belong to him. Every time he struck out with a technique, a shred of its power felt borrowed. Stolen. And it would forever be a part of him.

By day, when around people or training, he was fine. Things were different at night. Repeatedly, he would wake up in cold sweat, nightmares ravaging his mind whenever he closed his eyes. Images of how easily a neck snapped. The visions of a body appearing before he could tell what had happened.

Every time he trained, every step forward he took, with every bit of progress he made… Next time… it would be even easier.

Days passed, and eventually, on an evening, just as he was about to take the collection of medicines…

His doorbell rang.

Freddy walked over, expecting it to be Mark. But as he looked through the spyglass, he spotted Matt Canstone instead.

He couldn’t keep a breath from escaping his lips. Authority had most likely not been contacted, and it definitely wouldn’t be, but he was confident that Madam didn’t like sheltering a murderer—even if that would be wildly hypocritical of her.

With quite a bit of hesitation, Freddy turned the lock and opened the door.

“Hello,” Matt said. “May I come in?”

Freddy’s mind froze when he heard the question. “Uhm… Sure, feel free, I’ll uh… Yeah, do you want me to order something to drink?”

“No need for that, but thank you.”

The handsome auburn-haired man sat on the couch in the living room, and Freddy was about to sit beside him but shifted places a few times, looking for the most appropriate distance from the assistant.

“You can relax,” he said. “I’m not here for business. I just wanted to have a conversation with you.”

‘Total bullshit, but alright.’

Regardless of what the man said, there was no way in hell he was here without Madam’s knowledge. And if she allowed him to come here, it was because she was playing at something. Freddy showed no indication of his suspicion outwardly, instead feigning relaxation and releasing a ‘breath he had been holding in.’

“I’m… Am I in trouble?” He asked.

“No, you are not,” the man said, and before long, he added, “We’ve done our part cleaning up this mess. We’ve hired a man with a similar build to Hilbert and sent him into the passage in the main building, then instructed him to reach a point where he would be extracted through another passage. The man used Hilbert’s ID, so it would be concluded that he died while delving.”

Although it made him feel ashamed, Freddy couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at that. “I see… Thank you, and I apologize for the trouble I caused.”

Matt simply smiled and nodded slightly. Then, with a swing of his hand, a large bottle of alcohol appeared, and two glasses appeared next to it.

‘Ah, okay…’ Freddy thought. ‘So that’s what he meant by ‘no need.’’

“Do you want to have a drink with me?” Matt asked, shaking Freddy out of his thoughts.

“Uhm… I’m not personally in the mood for it. Thank you for the offer, though,” Freddy thanked the man. Truthfully, he wanted a sip but was afraid that it was spiked with something. If it was, this man’s arrival here could be to extract information or get Freddy to open up more about why someone could be after him.

“I see. That’s alright,” Matt said as he poured himself a glass and took a swig. With a deep sigh, he turned to Freddy. “That was similar to how my first happened.”

“What did?” Freddy asked.

“The way that man died by your hands.”

The bluntness of the man’s statement was like a punch to Freddy’s stomach, but he just nodded in response, waiting for the man to continue.

“I’m a single father. When my daughter was two years old, I took her everywhere since I couldn’t bear to leave her alone.” He poured more of the pungent drink into the glass and downed half the glass in one gulp. “One night, I had to do some late shopping, so I took her with me. I put her down for a moment since she cried that she wanted to walk by herself a bit. That was when that man appeared.

“He looked homeless and disheveled. With sure steps, he approached my daughter and reached to grab her. I reacted instinctively, kicking him in the head. His neck broke, and he fell to the ground, dead.”

Freddy sat silently, then said, “Seems fair enough to me.”

“The court said the same thing,” the man added with a lethargic chuckle and another sip. “I was let off with a fine, and that was it. But… I’ve never made peace with what I’ve done.

“I don’t know who he was or why he did what he did. Perhaps he was on drugs and saw something that made him reach for my daughter. I don’t truly know if his intent was to harm or take her… He wasn’t rushed. He didn’t jump at her. He simply reached out with his hand. Maybe he simply wanted to pat her on the head,” he said, tearing up a bit. “And my lovely angel…

“She claims she doesn’t remember seeing that happen, but I see it in her eyes. She jumps when I show up beside her without her noticing. She averts her gaze when she holds mine for too long. Even if she doesn’t remember, I’m sure the experience still haunts her, lurking deep in her soul.”

Freddy listened with rapt attention, nodding slightly at the man’s words. “Yeah I… I definitely wouldn’t want to trade places with you.”

“Hahaha,” the man chuckled a bit. “Indeed. And I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

“So, you’re the one observing me?” Freddy asked the man, but the assistant stared at him with a mysterious smile.

Then, ignoring Freddy’s question, he said, “I wanted to give you a few words of advice. First, never get into a fight unless you’re prepared to kill your opponent. Never,” he said, letting the word sink in for a moment. “Let me ask you something. Would you fight with a knife if you wanted to fight someone but didn’t want to seriously injure or kill them?”

Freddy frowned at that and shook his head.

“Obviously, you wouldn’t,” Matt said. “A knife is a weapon. Weapons injure and kill, by definition. While being unarmed seems less hostile, it isn’t much different. A punch can have serious consequences even among mortals; killing someone takes a lot less than people think. With archhumans, it becomes much worse. Special constitutions, talents, techniques… These are far more dangerous than a knife. Always remember that.”

Freddy took the words in and couldn’t help but ask, “Sir, do you… Do you think I’m at fault here?”

The man scoffed at the question. “Fault?” He laughed a bit. “There is no such thing as fault among the powerful…

“There is only shame.”

***

The days passed, and Freddy made steady progress. His gathering speed had sped up after he killed the man. Not for long, however. But enough to make a difference.

He felt he'd never make progress with how he split the techniques. So, for the time being, he kicked Create Water out of the schedule. It was an essential ability, yes… but for creating spells. And with Freddy's many abilities, getting more was far from his biggest priority.

He had also paused Abyssal Depths. This only left him with Flowing Strike, Hundred Wet Hells, and his work on creating Hydraulic Flex. He did Hundred Wet Hells one day, Flowing Strike another day, and worked on Hydraulic Flex on both.

Although meditative gathering was considerably faster than manual gathering, it was only so if there were enough wisps of his affinity around. Since it didn’t take long to exhaust an area, Freddy had to swap to manual gathering.

On a rather normal day, having finished his gym work, he went to the forest to work on his techniques and martial arts. Draining all the water wisps didn’t take long, so he entered the netherecho through his projection.

And when he appeared, he finally noticed the sensation he had been waiting for. While meditative gathering could only be used through one’s actual body, there was a one-time exception to this rule.

Ether constructs could exist in several forms, but they all needed to be attached to an anchor. Personified ether constructs were attached to a concept, ether shells were attached to a soul, prime vestiges were anchored to reality, and non-personified ether constructs were either attached to a representation of a physical object, a personified ether construct, or a projection.

In the first case, that was how cursed objects were created. The second case was when vestiges, for example, had a weapon or piece of equipment. And the third option…

Every ascended had a latent soul construct they could manifest and use through their projection. Knowing what one would get until one got it was impossible, so it was mainly down to luck. Still, one could make a rather good guess depending on the nature of their talent.

And this was where that one-time exception came in.

Freddy’s little projection sat on the ground, and he put his palms together. When he focused, contemplating not the concept of water but rather on his prime talent, a few nearby wisps reacted to his call.

‘Uh…’

Several metal wisps were popping out of the ground and tumbling toward him, which was a good sign, but something unusual happened. The patch of marsh he trained close to bubbled, and small balls of what looked like molten masses of skulls bounced toward him.

Death wisps.

Metal and death, it seemed, would be the ingredients for whatever his soul was about to manifest. It didn’t take a genius to guess what it would likely be. A weapon began taking shape as the wisps gathered and concentrated between Freddy’s little, gloved palms.

In seconds, a metallic clang ran out, and the large armament appeared in Freddy’s grasp.

‘Of course…’

He got a damn scythe.

Soul constructs could be a myriad of different things. While getting something like a bundle of flowers seemed horribly underwhelming, one must remember that fighting was far from the only option one had when dealing with vestiges. They had no such thing as a ‘desire to live’ unless they were explicitly attached to such an idea.

Charming them with flowers was a solid strategy for getting them to voluntarily crawl into one’s soul or even forfeit their existence. In fact, as a soul construct, it would hold a supernatural allure or otherwise increase the odds of persuasion working in those circumstances.

But… well… he couldn’t say he was disappointed. Freddy focused on the scythe and tried to discover what it did. He focused, pushing his essence through it in trepidation, but no matter how hard he concentrated, it didn’t respond.

‘Oh, come on!’

Whatever its special power was, it was a passive effect. If Freddy had to guess, he would say that it would likely cause vestiges to rot on touch. While this seemed great, it was common knowledge that soul constructs with an active effect were far superior to those with passive effects in at least ninety-nine out of a hundred cases.

While passives were great during sustained combat, actives were far better when dealing with a single powerful opponent. And in the netherecho… Well… There was no such thing as ‘sustained combat’ unless one had a few screws loose.

Personified ether constructs should always be tackled one at a time. And in such cases, an active ability that imbued his weapon with a powerful rot attack would be infinitely better than a passive effect.

Either way, at least for the foreseeable future, it didn’t matter to Freddy. As soon as he was done with his contract and could go on an expedition somewhere, he could use Bloodshed to deal with vestiges and remnants.

The primary reason why he cared about his soul construct for now, and the reason why he was glad that he received a weapon, was because it could be used to harvest wisps during manual gathering.

It wouldn’t be much faster than picking them up, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Freddy took a few practice swings with his weapon and couldn’t stop himself from getting a little giggly. The scythe felt weightless in his grasp, and every time he swung it, it left a black mist in its path.

‘So freakin’ cool.’

Now, then, it was time to test it with manual gathering.

Freddy located a small earth wisp just a bit to his side and swung at it. The scythe cleaved through it effortlessly, and he felt the ether and essence move into his…

Suddenly, Freddy’s little legs ran back toward his body, and once he arrived there, he blinked. He had just felt something unusual, and it shocked him enough to force him out of the netherecho. Swallowing hard, Freddy dove in again and carefully approached another wisp, taking a swing at it.

The wood wisp was sliced apart, and the tiny droplet of ether that entered Freddy felt the same as always. But the amount of essence his swing extracted was far more significant than usual.

Freddy had done quite a bit of reading on the topic, and he knew that using a weapon to do this didn’t speed up either the ether or the essence recovery. Which could only mean one thing—

‘Don’t fucking tell me… that this thing’s passive is… Essence Extraction!?’

That was absurd. There was no mention of anything like that in any of the books he’d read. One’s soul construct mattered, yes, but it was exclusively due to how much easier or harder it would be to handle personified ether constructs.

Something that could affect essence recovery, however…

‘Holy fucking—!’

That was on the level of a talent! Not only that, but talents that affected essence recovery were among the most desirable sort!

Yet again, he returned to his body, and this time, he took a deep breath.

‘Relax, Freddy… it might not be that good.’

The last thing he’d want was to get too excited and overreact before checking to ensure this was as good as it seemed. So, he returned to the netherecho again and began the test run of his new soul construct.

Filling his essence back to full capacity was something he couldn’t do even with several straight hours of gathering. But when nearly empty, his soul recovered essence faster. Usually, he would dive into the netherecho for around fifteen to twenty minutes at a time, which would be enough to regain approximately 10% of his total essence. Then, once he spent that, he would return and do the same thing.

He did as usual this time, spending roughly fifteen minutes in the netherecho. But the longer he spent there, the more he felt the pull to go back to his body so it could process the shock.

Because by the time he was done, he hadn’t regained 10% of his essence. He had regained nearly 70%.

***

For the next few days, Freddy spent most of his time not abusing his newly discovered cheat but contemplating how he would hide it. It didn’t take long for him to land on the perfect solution. He just wouldn’t.

There wasn’t enough merit to doing so. Madam almost definitely wouldn’t hesitate to snatch Bloodshed if she discovered it, but that was different. Bloodshed was something she could use. Freddy’s talent wasn’t.

On top of that, if Freddy wanted to remain safe after leaving Madam’s protection, using this advantage to become more powerful would serve him far better than hiding it.

He still didn’t intend to advertise that he could do this, and he made sure to disguise it to the best of his ability, but if someone was keeping an eye on him, it wouldn’t be long until they discovered that something was off.

As more days passed, Freddy’s growth sped up even further. His star was, yet again, growing at a crawl, but his ether shells were developing rapidly. Hydraulic Flex was still far from being finished, but Hundred Wet Hells was at least 20% along to being able to upgrade to a stage one ability, and Flowing Strike was closer to 40%.

As his time spent here passed two months, he noticed something worrisome. He had to stop using the steroids because, simply put, he was growing too big. While his muscular growth was utterly insane initially, it had slowed down somewhat. But, it was still going above what should be physiologically possible. He had already reached 86kg. He had put on 8kg of weight in less than three weeks.

While some of that mass was due to his limited use of Abyssal Depths, judging from what he knew of the tempering technique, with how little he had used it, it couldn’t have added more than 100g.

Even if his growth slowed further, another four months of development like that would put him above 100kg. Being at around that much mass would still be manageable, but if he grew much more than that, it would seriously compromise his mobility.

Freddy wasn’t all that tall, either.

Mark, who was much bigger than Freddy, weighed 115kg. But his talent and weapon choice permitted it. Freddy, on the other hand, needed to stay mobile.

Although he was quick to kick the drugs out of his schedule, he wouldn’t limit his calorie intake. Because otherwise, he might just starve to death.

***

On another ordinary evening, Freddy was getting ready to go to bed until his doorbell rang again. He immediately knew it would be exhausting, but he forced himself to walk there anyway.

The moment he peeked through the spyglass, however, his stomach dropped.

Madam Morleppe herself stood before the entrance to his room.

Freddy took a single deep breath to calm down and opened the door. “Greetings, Madam!” He chirped.

“Freddy, darling, how lovely to see you!” She said as she walked into the apartment.

“Yeah!” Freddy concurred. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the shit, young man,” she said in the most polite tone she could manage with such a phrase.

Immediately, Freddy began sweating, and with a smile, Madam patted him on the shoulder, causing him to jolt reflexively.

“You don’t need to pretend to be happy to see me. Anyone can tell that you trust me about as much as a man with IBS trusts a fart, so let’s not do this pretend play, okay?”

Freddy nodded hesitantly, and Madam walked past him. “Let’s go have a seat. We have something important to talk about.”

With clenched fists and shaky steps, Freddy followed her, and they sat in the kitchen.

It was as if she extracted some sort of sick pleasure from awkward silence, and she let it stretch on far too long, simply observing Freddy from top to bottom. And then, finally, she spoke, “You’re growing fast.”

“That I am,” he confirmed, still somewhat stilted.

“Lovely. You should have at least asked before dropping the steroids, though.”

Freddy winced at that and wondered whether she would force him to return to taking them.

“I won’t,” she said as if she could read his mind. “I was going to tell you to stop anyway since a freak that belonged in a circus is the last thing I’d want on my show.” Then, with a dramatic sigh, she summoned a cocktail from thin air and started taking a long, hard sip.

Then, the way an interrogator questioned a criminal, she opened her mouth and asked him, “How exactly did you manage to piss off the patriarch of the Kraven clan?”

“Who?” Freddy asked.

“I will be entirely straightforward with you, Freddy Stern. If I conclude that you knew he was after you and decided to trick me into taking you under my wing anyway, I will kill you immediately.”

Freddy gritted his teeth. How entitled could this woman be? Who the fuck did she think Freddy was? Rage boiled in his heart, but he took a deep breath and calmed down. After all, he was innocent. Even if he wanted to tear her head off her shoulders for the threat, he was powerless to do anything.

“Madam,” he said, taking a moment to think through what he was about to say. “I have no idea who that person is, and this is the first time I hear of the ‘Kraven’ clan,” he answered honestly and held her gaze throughout the ordeal.

She squinted at him and took another long sip of her drink. The cocktail ran dry, but she kept slurping it up, producing an annoying sound all the while. “Alright, I believe you,” she said, just like that, putting the glass away, but Freddy knew he wasn’t clear of suspicion.

Still, he proceeded as if she was convinced because no matter what she tried, she would fail to get anything out of him. Because he truly was innocent.

“Well,” she said. “I still have to ask you a few things. You’ve somehow made an enemy that is a pain for even me to deal with, and given that I have no choice but to defend you, I’d like your full cooperation.”

Reasonable enough, at least if it were honest.

“So,” she continued, “First, I guess I should clue you in on who we’re dealing with. His name is Janhalar Kraven, and he leads a clan of blood archs.”

It all happened in an instant.

The moment she mentioned the blood archs, Freddy immediately thought of Bloodshed, and as soon as he did, Madam’s arm morphed, extending forward, and her nails sharpened into pointy claws that grasped Freddy’s neck, drawing blood.

With a murderous look of wrath on her face, she growled. “So you do know something, after all.”