1% Lifesteal

Chapter 99 - He Will Die

Freddy walked into his newly rented apartment and placed two large glass containers and a bag of groceries on the tiny table in the room.

The new place he was renting was considerably smaller than the former apartment. It was only a single room with a bed in the middle and a table next to a sink, but it was still thrice as large as the coffin room he had grown up in.

While he was itching to finally get his own damn apartment, he didn't mind waiting a bit longer. He had a massive debt to pay off, so, for the time being, until he started making considerably more money than he needed for the monthly payments, he was being frugal.

As a two-star, he wouldn't pay the fine off a couple hundred dollars at a time. No, he had to pay nearly fifty thousand dollars a month. He still had quite a bit of money stashed away in his savings, but given that he wasn't back to delving yet, he was being patient.

Also, admittedly, there was something comforting about watching his spending.

Maybe it was just an old habit.

There was no fridge in the room, nor was there any other surface to make food. His food stash—dry bread and miscellaneous multivitamins—was tucked in large paper bags in the corner of the room.

He arranged some of the ingredients he had gathered on the table and poured water into the first pitcher. Slowly, one after another, he poured in ingredients, mainly quite cheap stuff he got from the grocery store, like salt and sugar. On top of that, he was adding more expensive materials, including a viscous, vibrant blue preservative that came in a small glass bottle.

For the last week, ever since he'd been released from jail, he'd been doing only two things—planning where he was going to work next and digging through obscure books for any records on how to preserve the life of someone who had been reduced to a mere head.

It didn't take long to become apparent that healing Sophia wouldn't be easy or cheap. It would be a breeze if he could somehow wake her up, but given her state, that wasn't a possibility. At the very least, she wasn't conscious.

It was pretty intimidating seeing how differently death came to those who were undead. At times, he even felt slightly regretful that he had decided to go down this path. Everyone died eventually. And given that he would never die of old age, his death could only be excruciating. Still, he had made his choice. No matter how unpleasant, it was a massive source of power. Sophia was proof of that.

But even in this state, she couldn't survive forever.

Thus, he needed a safer way to keep her alive until he found a permanent solution.

Finding out how to do that, however, was no easy task.

He had thought he could just ask the local librarians or bookstore owners for advice, but most had only pointed him to old medical records on obscure cases.

The problem was that most organizations oriented around death affinity had their own unique and—surprise, surprise—secret ways of keeping their members alive.

It took a long, grueling week of digging through one record after another and swapping through several libraries until he finally found what he was looking for.

Once he finally added all the ingredients, he took out a large metal spoon and stirred them for about a minute. Then he took Sophia's head out of his storage ring, gently lowered it into the empty container, and slowly poured the solution over her until she was fully submerged. Once done, he attached the airtight cap to the container and put it into the storage ring.

Just like that, he had bought himself roughly a year to save her.

Undead cells didn't die on their own the way living cells did. Once exhausted, they went into a stasis, resuming their work after being supplied with more energy. But they, just as everything else, were subject to gradual deterioration.

Die, they might not—but fall apart, they would, indeed.

A year from then would be around the time when enough of her brain matter deteriorated to irreversibly lose a part of who she was as a person. Even if resurrected after that point, she would never be the same Sophia again. Freddy wouldn't give up even after half a decade, but that didn't mean there was no sense of urgency.

He had planned to decompress for a day but settled for beating up the spark of undeath instead. Rest would come after he found regular work again.

Given that it was noon, he had his lunch first. He wolfed down several stale and dry loaves of bread, each dipped in water to soften them up, and then swallowed a large handful of multivitamins. While eating like this was objectively gross, he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed it in a twisted way.

There was a bizarre feeling of power in knowing that he could eat worse than some poor farmer's chickens and still be healthier than the overwhelming majority of the population.

Washing his hands, he straightened his white short-sleeve T-shirt and headed outside.

It was an inordinately cold day. The sky above was clouded, but it didn't look like it would rain. The city was full of people rushing about their business, and the street was full of cars. Not carriages—cars. In fact, during his long absence from society, Freddy had missed out on several critical breakthroughs in technology.

Starhold had been quite productive regarding resources and development, so cars with an internal engine were becoming increasingly common. So much so, in fact, that drake-pulled carriages had been declared illegal in large cities due to the traffic congestion and pollution they were causing.

Naturally, many people were super pissed about this as they still couldn't afford a car, but anyone who needed transportation for business had been given a generous subsidy, which dulled the blow.

Freddy brought his idle daydreaming back on track as he refocused. As expected, the Santorio hub was closed indefinitely after the incident. That left only three other public passages—or so he thought.

Once Santorio was out of the equation, a handful of brand-new public passages opened to compete for the role the Santorio hub used to play.

While the three already-established hubs were undoubtedly a safer choice, Freddy had already visited these places, and he wasn't a big fan, to say the least.

The first was an anomaly—the inside of the realm was a mountainous area where the undead kept appearing out of nowhere. His talent, unsurprisingly, didn't work on piles of walking bones and rotting flesh. Being unable to rely on his talent in a tight spot was an unnecessary risk.

The second was a scorching hot desert. Usually, this would be great for a water-affinity arch like himself because he was naturally more resistant to dehydration, but the lack of vegetation was somewhat of a turn-off. Again, it was not a huge problem, given the fleshy blob in his ring, but it wasn't optimal.

The third was… well, it really wasn't a bad option on the surface. A neat, forested area with all sorts of animalistic monsters inside. The issue was with the owner—after the terrorist attack, he had become quite paranoid and had thus set up background checks on anyone who requested entry, making the passage only quasi-public.

Although Freddy was entirely innocent and already investigated, he wasn't allowed entry because of his involvement with the terrorist incident.

Thus, on that day, he was on a journey.

He had four destinations in mind.

It was time to see what Nova York had to offer.

***

Theodore was out on a walk in the streets. A beige scarf fluttered in the frigid wind, bouncing across his thick, black coat. He brought a cigarette to his lips and took a deep pull, exhaling slowly.

His life had been going rather well during the previous few months. He got a new job in a mercenary crew. He'd left the life of freelance delving behind him and now worked exclusively by contract. His talent made him quite valuable for exploring new passage routes and scouting inside established realms.

Once finished with his cigarette, he extinguished it and threw it in a nearby bin. Walking another block, he turned and entered a skyscraper.

Within a minute, he was in his apartment on the 17th floor. As soon as he opened the door, a woman rushed at him and hugged him tightly. "You're back…" Beatrice whispered.

He could feel her rapidly beating heart. Her relief that he was back home was as palpable as the tightness of her grip around his waist.

After he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, she detached from him and looked up with shining eyes. "I made you dinner. Oh, but we ran out of parmesan…" she said, her eyes drifting to the side.

"No worries," he said, putting his coat back on. "I'll hop down to the store and get some."

He walked back outside.

Beatrice hadn't been doing all that well after the whole ordeal. She hadn't left their apartment for months. Frankly, Theodore preferred it this way. Not only did she not give a shit what he did or who he spent time with, but she was also willing to forgive… anything… as long as he didn't abandon her.

She had been fighting tooth and nail to keep him happy. He could, of course, bring over a therapist to help her move past the trauma, but… nah.

Where was the fun in that?

The only real downside was that she sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night, but that was no big deal.

She had recently started putting a gag on her mouth before going to bed.

Besides, Theodore rarely spent the night sleeping at home these days.

The closest store was just outside the building. As soon as Theodore walked out the front door, he turned, and—

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large man in a white shirt turning left down the street. Within a second, the man was gone behind a building.

Theodore froze.

His eyes were his greatest weapon. He was confident that he wasn't imagining it. But still, he rushed forward just to confirm it.

Cautiously, he glanced around the corner and watched the broad back of Liam John—no, Liam Cuttingsworth—as the man made his way down the street.

"What in the…" Theodore couldn't believe it.

The man was still alive?

They must have found him when they cracked the seal a few weeks ago, but even then…

Jacob had been absolutely positive that the man was guilty of conspiring with the cultists. It looked like he had been wrong.

Theodore ducked behind the cover with a huge scowl on his face.

Back when he saw the man in the passage, right before the empress arrived, Theodore had noticed something weird. The man's physique had been substantially different than just a few weeks prior. Not just a little, either—it was as if his bones had been reformed and muscles rebalanced.

And somehow, he'd only grown bigger since then.

Theodore had noticed throughout their time working together that Liam's body grew at a rather absurd speed. Back then, the man had done nothing impossible. Some steroids and a bit of exercise would do the job.

This was different.

This was caused by some sort of outside influence.

But what?

His talent?

Did that woman he was with do that to him? If so, how?

Given that the man's weak points were even more muted than they were the last time Theodore saw him, it definitely wasn't a purely cosmetic effect.

Yet, frighteningly enough, that wasn't even the most unusual part. The man was a peak two-star.

"Phew…" Theodore breathed out, leaning against the wall.

Liam was a bizarre individual. He'd already known that much. While his circumstances were intriguing, Theodore had no real reason to care about the man.

Other than—

"Whatever," he muttered, turning back and walking to the store.

He bought the parmesan.

He ate his dinner.

After eating, he sat down in the living room and watched a movie with Beatrice by his side. Yet, throughout the film, he kept spacing out. His heartbeat was elevated. Beatrice's touch, where she leaned on his shoulder, felt uncomfortable and… dirty.

"Hey," he said, pushing her away and getting up. "I'm going out."

His wife looked incredibly disappointed that he wouldn't stay to finish the movie. She looked down for a moment before asking, "Are you going to be back tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah… Yeah," he said, waving her off. "I'm just gonna go… uh… see a friend."

Within twenty minutes, Theodore was knocking on someone's door. It took a long minute, but eventually, the doors cracked open. "Oh, hey!" Jacob greeted him as he opened the door. "What brought you here?"

Jacob had changed quite a bit in the last half a year. The man's face looked gaunt, and he'd lost much of his muscle mass. He was pale. Deep eye bags hung under his eyes.

"Hey there, man!" Theodore greeted him, offering him a fist bump. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah… Uh… You wanna come in?" Jacob offered.

"Sure. I have to talk to you about something."

The men sat down in the massive, highly decorated living room. They chatted idly for a few minutes while a maid brought them coffee. The woman appeared a bit jittery, and Jacob smacked her ass as soon as she turned around. She yelped.

"New girl?" Theodore asked, smirking at him.

"Yeah, she's a bit of a shy one." Jacob chuckled as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"You dog." Theodore shook his head as he took a sip of the coffee. It was slightly bitter. "Hey, I have to talk to you about something."

Jacob quirked an eyebrow as he raised a cup to his lips. "What is it?"

"I… I saw Liam Cuttingsworth on the street today."

Jacob's arm froze. He put the coffee back down as he turned to face Theodore. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking." Theodore declared. "Did you not know that they found him alive?"

"My old man didn't tell me shit!" The man spat on the ground. "What the fuck!?" he exclaimed with a scowl. "Are they insane!? That girl with him was a fucking cultist; I know what I saw!" He got a bit heated, but he caught himself, leaning back on the couch as he chewed on his knuckles. "There's no way he's clean."

"Yet he's a free man," Theodore declared. "You know damn well how strict the adjudicators are. If the dude had farted too loudly at any point in the last decade, they'd know."

"They have no idea what happened in the passage," Jacob said. "Other than the handful of us who lived, there are no witnesses. He could have been in there killing people the whole time, and they wouldn't know shit."

"Well, the cult is gone," Theodore said. "Without hard evidence, they can't put a peak two-star behind bars."

Jacob froze. "Wait… what…?"

"You heard me." Theodore nodded gravely. "Peak fucking two-star. No signs of injuries on him, either. Not only that. Remember how I told you that his body is different now? I wasn't just imagining it. It was like his head was transplanted on another man's body! It's ridiculous!"

Jacob snarled at that.

"You know… you might think I'm crazy, but I have a theory." Theodore took another sip of coffee and adopted a severe expression. "A few weeks ago, they publicly stated that Silver Heart was found dead within the realm."

Jacob nodded, remaining silent and attentive.

"Well… You know how they said that Silver Heart was executed all that time ago? And then he… magically came back to life all this time later?"

Jacob snapped his head in Theodore's direction. "You don't think…?"

"Hey, you never know…" Theodore shrugged, raising his hands. "If the man can transfer his consciousness from one body to another, this whole thing would make much more sense."

Jacob smashed a fist into the table and rushed to his feet. "Fuck!" he shouted, pulling at his thinning golden hair as he paced in circles. "I have to go talk to my father." The man stormed out of the room. "Wait for me here," he said, grabbing a jacket and putting his boots on. Then he rushed outside.

Theodore obeyed, leaning back and meditating while he waited.

Around half an hour later, Jacob walked back into the apartment. He slowly walked back to the couch and sat next to Theodore.

"And?" Theodore prodded.

"There was a clear indication that Silver Heart's soul was destroyed," Jacob said. "That's about as solid as evidence gets, I suppose."

"Is it really?" Theodore tapped on his chin. "Even if his soul is gone, can they prove that the man didn't transfer his consciousness?"

"Without a soul?" Jacob probed. "I don't see a point in doing that."

"Who knows what that psychopath was capable of?"

Jacob scowled.

Theodore pushed. "Look, even if we're wrong, I think it's safe to say that that man must have had some ties with the cult. They can't prove anything, and given that the cult is already gone, they let him go."

Jacob's scowl deepened.

Theodore pushed harder. "They're not going to do anything about him. Think about that. Remember what we lived through back there? That bastard was almost definitely doing the same thing to others in the passage. And he's just going to walk away. Free as a motherfucking bird."

Jacob visibly bit the inside of his cheek.

"I don't know about you, but I can't ignore that."

Jacob clenched his fists.

"I think you know what we should do, right?

Jacob slowly nodded. "Yeah… We can't just let that bastard walk away."

Theodore smiled.

The two discussed some plans and threw ideas around for a while. Eventually, after a few drinks, their conversation veered way off course. They agreed to discuss things further the next day, and for the time being, Theodore went home.

By the time he was back, his wife was already sleeping soundly in bed.

He saw her helpless, half-naked body on the bed and slowly approached it.

Looking at her from above, she looked so… small. So fragile. Like he could cup her whole body in his two hands. He slowly lowered himself and sat on the bed next to her. He carefully moved her hair out of her face to get a better look at her.

He chuckled.

It was surprising that he would do something like this. He thought himself more rational than that. But while he was willing to believe that that man was entirely out of his wife's mind…

He would never forget about him.

He could never put that behind them.

He could never come to terms with it.

"I can forgive you, you fucking whore," he whispered as he bent over, gave her a kiss on her cheek, and watched her smile in her sleep.

"But he will die."