1% Lifesteal

Chapter 112 - Painful Memories

Freddy lay in his bed. He had just taken a shower but hadn't yet gotten ready to sleep. It was 9 p.m., and he wasn't tired yet. With his two guests, he didn't want to bring Bloodshed out to watch movies with him, so he instead just crashed in his bed and thought about some stuff.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a storage ring. This was the ring that belonged to the man he killed just earlier that day. And now, he finally decided to take a look at it.

His eyebrows instantly jumped.

The storage ring wasn't that big.

But it was full of prime vestiges.

"Is this how the man stored his money…?" Freddy wondered, mentally counting up the primes. There were fifteen of them, all packed into small glass boxes, leaving just enough space for a few other personal items, including the man's ID and wallet.

Feeling quite excited, he took the primes out one by one and examined them. His expression fell as he realized that all of them were trash.

The talents were either extraordinarily vague or obviously bad, and none of them had more than one affinity, which also didn't work too well with the attached talent.

Elbow Blades, Hard Head, Enhanced Vascularity—but with earth rather than blood affinity, Metallic Nails, Sharp Hair, yada yada. He sighed. It's all garbage.

They would still be worth almost six figures a piece just by being prime vestiges, but these were most likely just meant to be used to store value.

Prime vestiges were frequently used by rich folks as a way to inflation-proof their money. There would always be people to sell a prime to.

Somewhere deep down, this made Freddy a bit frustrated. How many such "trash primes" rotted away in some rich fucker's storage ring while an uncountable number of people had to sacrifice their whole lives just for a mere chance to buy one? If this random-ass nobody had fifteen just in his storage ring, Freddy wouldn't be surprised to discover that there was enough of them out there for every single mortal alive.

But, although he had his qualms with the practice, he wasn't about to play Robin Hood and give these away to the poors. Not only would that probably not even help those people, it would be a waste of much-needed money.

While they weren't worth much individually, their cumulative value could buy a decent talent. Freddy was reluctant to sell them, though—they might be registered as the ownership of the man he killed, and if there were records of the man buying or owning them, that would directly link Freddy to the man's death.

There was also the wallet, which had a few thousand dollars in it. Better than nothing.

Oh, and there was a small dagger inside; it was even inscribed. The enchantment made it cut things more easily, but without a tzenekite imbuement, and with the mediocre material, the effect could only handle a few slashes before having to recharge its energy. Still, it was of decent quality, and Freddy could always use a quality knife.

He put the primes back into the ring and placed the ring into a safe that was located in the corner of his room. At the very least, the ring would come in handy. Sophia would need one, given that he sold hers off.

He went back to the bed and then, with a thought, pulled an object out of his personal storage ring.

The red ball snarled at him from within the glass container.

This was the prime holding the blood sampling talent.

For a brief moment, Freddy thought about giving it to Lucas. It would be an absolutely perfect way to thoroughly piss off Janhalar even in death. But it was just too valuable to do that.

It wasn't just because of the price tag that Freddy wouldn't give it away. The people would notice. The combination of blood, death, and life was mighty. It would make anyone stand out, which wasn't a good thing in this city.

But now that he knew more about talents, he realized something unexpected. This prime had a massive flaw.

The prime had a talent purely related to blood.

But it didn't only have the blood affinity.

Affinity shards were incredibly expensive, but they were certainly well within the budget of someone like Janhalar.

So why wouldn't the man get a second or even third affinity?

Why stick to just blood?

It was simple—because talents evolved to accommodate everything an archhuman could do. Janhalar undoubtedly had a blood-related talent. Adding more affinities risked screwing up his next evolution. Well, if he got his hands on Bloodshed, he would have gotten a unique affinity, but that would still be tied to blood, so he wouldn't lose anything.

With the prime Freddy took from Janhalar, there would be no issues at the first star. But with every new star, the talent would become less blood-related. This didn't necessarily have to be a problem. But Janhalar was a great example of how powerful a single affinity could be with a dedicated talent. It wasn't as simple as "the more affinities the better".

Sighing, he put the prime vestige away and got up. He left his room and approached one of the guest rooms. He lightly knocked on the door.

"You can come in," a weak voice called from the inside.

Freddy cracked the door open, seeing Lucas on a chair beside the bed where his mother was sleeping with a goofy grin on her face.

The guest room had two separate beds.

Lucas and his mother were wearing spare pajamas. The apartment had come loaded with a full wardrobe of clothes in all sizes for both sexes. Money truly made everything so much easier.

The woman snored, choked loudly on whatever she seemed to inhale, coughed a few times, and then returned right back to peaceful sleep as if nothing had happened. Then she started snoring again.

Freddy chuckled. "That is one loud sleeper."

"Oh you have no idea," Lucas said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "The medication is holding her back from displaying her full power."

"Does she talk?"

"Talks, walks… fights with shadows…" He sighed. "I sometimes get the urge to lock her into a box or something while she sleeps."

Freddy laughed but kept his voice quiet. "So… are you gonna go sleep in the other room?"

Lucas looked over at the second bed in the room. "Nah," he said. "I'll stay here for tonight. She'll raise hell if she wakes up and doesn't know where she is."

"All right, whatever you want." Freddy smiled.

"Hey, uh…" Lucas started, looking hesitant. "Would you… Actually, never mind."

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"Come on, say it."

Lucas hesitated for another moment. "I was planning on going to get our stuff tomorrow, but I'm afraid that someone might break in while we're away. Would you be in the mood to come with me if I went now?"

"What about your mom? Didn't you say she's gonna raise hell if she wakes up?"

Lucas chuckled and awkwardly scratched his cheek. "She's a big girl. She'll live. We wouldn't be gone for long, anyway."

"Nah, don't leave her alone. If you want, I'll go get your stuff for you."

Lucas's eyes shot open at that. "You'd really do that…?"

Freddy shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

For a long moment, Lucas simply stayed there, then nodded. "Thank you, Freddy."

"Can you just tell me what you need me to pick up?"

"Do you have a piece of paper?"

"I'm a peak two-star. Just tell me, I won't forget anything."

"Oh yeah…"

After being told about all he needed to bring, Freddy visited the apartment. Thankfully, nobody seemed to have entered it while they were away—nothing else had been damaged besides the broken door and vandalized wall.

"Hey!" someone shouted from the outside. "Who's there!?"

Freddy turned around, peeked outside, and saw an older, balding man in a white wifebeater shouting from the stairway to the higher floor. The man was a one-star, no further along than 50% progress. But given his pathetic physique, he was clearly not a combatant; given his aged appearance, he had likely only become an archhuman later in life.

"Uh… Hi?" Freddy greeted with a wave. "I'm just here to pick up the stuff of the family that lives here. They're moving out."

"Moving out, are they!? Hmph!" the man snorted as he rushed down, his house slippers clapping as he angrily marched up to Freddy. "They haven't paid me the last three months' rent! And now I come and see the doors broken and the wall vandalized! Who will pay me for this!? Tell those good-for-nothing mother and son that I'll take legal action if they don't give me the money two days from now at the latest!"

Freddy sighed, feeling quite annoyed at the man's beratement. He released his aura for a brief moment, and the man suddenly paled. "Ah… I… I, uh…" He rubbed his hands together nervously. "I meant to say that uh… I am willing to negotiate the terms of payment! Just… please… tell them I'll be waiting. Any time next month is fine."

"How much do they owe you?"

The man blinked. "E-excuse me?"

"Just give me a number."

"I… Uh… I believe it's…" He glanced at the broken door and licked his lips. "Eight—no, seven thousand should be fine."

Freddy pulled out seven bills from his ring. They were thousand-dollar bills. But before he handed them over, he asked, "Did they have any deposits to take back?"

"That money is… for the damage."

"And you're telling me this shitty little apartment is over two thousand dollars a month?"

The man went quiet. "Ah, I am sorry, sir, I misspoke. This old head is going a bit bad these days, hahaha…! Four thousand dollars is all they owe me."

Freddy handed him four bills. The man took them and turned around, rushing up the stairs. Freddy released a bit of his aura, and the man started running.

"Fucking vulture." Shaking his head, he went inside to collect all he'd been told to take.

He placed all the clothes into garbage bags to carry them more efficiently, and the rest went into his storage ring. There really wasn't much to take.

There was nothing of real value. Well, unless sentimental value was taken into account.

He grabbed a notebook. It was Lucas's old journal. Even though he was a bit curious, out of respect, he didn't read it.

There was also a pile of childhood drawings, all drawn on what seemed to be A4 format paper. But some of the paper was cut up, with parts of the drawings missing.

The photos had a similar story to tell. It was important to remember just how expensive photography was in the post-Rift era. It required either special materials or a light-affinity archhuman.

These pictures were relatively low in quality, and the colors could be barely discerned. Still, they must have cost over a hundred dollars apiece.

Thus, it was no surprise that they cut the third person out instead of throwing the pictures away.

There was also a cute mug up on a shelf.

BEST MOM EVER, it said in colorful text, with a large heart and crude smiley face, signed with BY LUCAS. But the space just past the signature felt coarse, almost as if someone had sanded off a part of the signature. He could vaguely discern AND before another name that had been thoroughly scraped off.

"Jesus, this is fucking depressing…"

This mug was the last thing he had to pick up.

Just as he placed it into his storage ring, he heard another voice coming from behind him. "I don't suppose a two-star would be interested in stealing mugs and clothes."

Freddy whirled, suddenly feeling a sense of danger.

A man stood in the doorway, grinning widely at him. He was tall and handsome, with a beardless, gentle face and green hunter eyes. His long, black hair reached down to his chest, flowing over his fancy designer clothes.

Freddy had spent a lot of time researching anyone with any amount of status in this city. The newspapers gave out a lot of information. Thus, he immediately recognized the man.

He was one of the less well-known young masters from one of the five major factions.

His name was Jason Gem, and he was part of Gem & Faller Co. They were primarily a corporate entity; some of the companies they owned ran casinos. During his research, Freddy wasn't capable of pinning down precisely what other dirty businesses they were in, but it wouldn't be too far-fetched a guess to assume they dealt with loans.

And the fact that this man was here was a sign that that was likely a good guess.

A casual probe revealed the man to be a two-star at around 170% essence capacity. While that seemed weaker than Freddy, Freddy's abilities were lagging far behind what a warrior of his power should have access to, and his talent had limited use in direct combat.

Facing this man could be dangerous.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Freddy asked, keeping his guard up.

"No… No," the man said, smirking. "I just got some news that an ex of mine got herself into trouble, so I thought I'd come and offer some help, but alas." He shrugged. "It looks like someone already took care of it."

That caught Freddy by surprise. He presumed this man was here to check who was causing trouble. But now, by the sound of it, it seemed that he was actually the father of Lucas's late brother.

Freddy hid any signs that those words made an impact on him. "Ah, is this about the kidnapping?" Freddy smiled pleasantly. "Relax; she successfully escaped after an incident broke out. I've hired her son as a helper, so I took it upon myself to protect them for the time being."

"Oh?" the man mused. "I suppose you are trying to say you had nothing to do with that… 'incident'?"

Freddy chuckled. "Trust me, well… I wouldn't have gotten violent, but if I had the opportunity, I would have taken care of it myself. Unfortunately, I was busy delving with Lucas at the time."

"And you have proof of this?"

Freddy put on a confused expression at that. "Proof? Of course I do. We were having dinner at the restaurant closest to the passage; I even still have the receipt with the exact time; it's in my wallet. But I don't see why I'd need to provide proof that I wasn't involved." He put his hands on his hips and quirked an eyebrow. "No offense, but I'm starting to doubt your motives for coming here… Are you really here to help out?" He squinted his eyes at the man.

The man chuckled. "Cut the shit, you bastard. Who's your owner? Why do you think you have the right to fuck around with our business?"

"Whoa, what's with the change in tone? I'm not sure you understand who you're talking to," Freddy said, pointing behind his shoulder with a thumb. "I moved in a week ago, and I'm just starting my life here. Let alone having an 'owner,' I don't even know anyone other than Lucas."

"So you have the balls to act without backing?" The man's expression darkened. "I can tell you're strong, but you're not at the level where you can just do whatever you want. We're gonna meet again. This isn't over." The man flashed Freddy a middle finger and walked back, heading down the stairs and out of the building.

Freddy stood there in silence for a few seconds. His mind churned. If that man walked away, that meant trouble. If he wanted to prevent that, he had to act immediately.

"Bloodshed."

The tiny skeleton appeared and restained its presence. "Yes, Master."

Freddy opened the window. "Follow that man and update me on his location."

Bloodshed nodded and climbed out of the window, jumping off and onto the neighboring building.

Freddy left the clothes there for the time being and slowly followed after the man. Unfortunately, as soon as the man walked out, he entered a car. Other than the driver, there were two men sitting in the back, most likely a couple of guards.

"Fuck!" Freddy cursed. "Keep following them, Bloodshed!"

"Understood."

Freddy ran as fast as he could after them. While he accelerated slowly with his body mass, once he reached top speed, he could almost keep up with the car. Bloodshed, meanwhile, was more than fast enough to keep up with them. It leaped from one building to another, with grace Freddy was surprised to see.

"Get out of my way!" he shouted at a couple of thugs who obeyed, jumping aside as they barely avoided collision with Freddy. Thankfully, almost nobody was outside at this hour, leaving him nearly empty streets to run through.

The spirit kept updating him on where to go, and he kept running, following after the men.

He had a rough idea of where they were headed—all of the major factions had their headquarters on the city's outskirts.

As the car kept moving, Freddy kept following, and before long, the car stepped out of the city and onto the short stretch of road that went through the woods between the city and their headquarters.

"Now!" Freddy shouted through his mental connection.

"Understood."

***

Jason was having an interesting day. A smirk was glued to his face.

Hellen Black.

When he heard how far the woman had fallen, he had been excited to pay her a visit. Sure, she was already sagging with age, but there was something special about seeing women begging on their knees.

And what a coincidence, that out of all the places she could have taken a loan, she'd go to a business he was directly tasked with overlooking. He didn't believe in fate, but boy, was that a lovely coincidence.

As soon as he got the report the woman had been taken in, he had immediately cleared his evening schedule to come and play.

But rather than a fun evening of toying with that slut, he was met with a murder mystery and an even more mysterious suspect.

While Jason was confident in his power, he wasn't stupid enough to pick a direct fight with a peak two-star. His father's company had informants in all the other factions, so he would know by the end of the evening whether that man had been lying about being unassociated or not.

At any rate, he was excited. While some among his brothers and sisters loathed trouble, he reveled in it. Where was the fun in living life from one corporate meeting to another? No, life wasn't meant to be lived that way. Work was good, but play was better.

He needed some excitement sometimes. Some action. Some fighting.

And sometimes, he just wanted to see some bloodshed.

"Hmm!?" His driver suddenly tensed, looking alarmed.

"What's wrong?" Before he even got the answer, he spotted it.

A bloody skeleton spirit, no taller than a grown man's waist, stood in the middle of the road, right in the way of their speeding car.

Rather than get out of the way, it braced itself.

One moment, they were about to run it over.

The next, the car was spinning through the air.

They crashed into the road, rolling over several times before coming to a stop upside down. With his tough physique, Jason was rattled but uninjured, but the driver was dead, and the two guards in the back groaned as they rushed to open the door and leave the car.

Jason kicked the doors open and pulled himself out.

The skeleton stood in the road, staring at them menacingly. And from behind it, barely illuminated in the darkness of the forest, with knuckles of spiked blood and muscles bulging under his thick winter clothing…

The mysterious man was slowly approaching, glaring with murder in his eyes.