1% Lifesteal

Chapter [BOOK ONE FINALE] 41 - Unscarred of Fate's Filthy Hands

Being dragged into the mouth of the beast left Freddy frozen stiff, terrified beyond what he believed was possible; his hand clutched the dagger in a death grip, but his shoulder was locked, making him incapable of even taking a swing, and as the numerous sharp teeth flew right past his face, he was left helpless, practically waiting for the creature to close its maw and skewer him with hundreds of spiked, needle-like protrusions.

But it didn't.

Instead, he was dragged to the back of the throat as the giant monstrosity likely deemed him too small to even bother chewing; the tentacle squeezed hard enough to snap his spine and several other bones, then he was pushed down into pure darkness where, with his body mangled, he was helpless to resist as the hot, stinky, slippery throat swallowed, crushing his body again and pushing him further on a dizzying journey where up and down and left and right and front and behind blended into a singularity he couldn't escape.

He tried cutting with the dagger, but the flesh was more akin to slippery metal than actual organic tissue, and without any foothold, he could apply practically no force to his strikes.

In an instant, the suffocating tunnel of tight muscle disappeared, and he fell in a short freefall, splashing back-first against a liquid that immediately began sizzling.

He screamed, and the breath he took after burned so badly that his lungs felt as if they were melting.

The stomach acid of the beast was intense; the upper layer of his skin was already succumbing to its corrosive might, and with the depth of the liquid and the constant sloshing as the beast moved, he had no chance of making it anywhere.

He was rapidly approaching a state of unconsciousness, and he knew that if he did, it was over—death was inevitable.

A sudden lurch sent him tumbling against the wall of the stomach, and his dagger nicked the hard edge. Yet again, the stomach was far too strong to succumb to the sharp piece of metal in his hands, and in the next moment, he had already tumbled back into the liquid, continuing his swim to the other shore of river Styx.

Time was running out. Each moment, the distinction between the pitch-black darkness and the encroaching unconsciousness grew blurrier.

He lifted his hand and cast Create Water. A large-basin-worth of liquid flowed out of his hand, washing over him and temporarily diluting the acid. With that, his mind cleared just a bit, but enough to think properly for a moment—enough for him to swim forward, pushing through the pain until he reached the wall of the stomach, and then take a swing imbued with Flowing Strike.

The dagger sank only a few centimeters into the surface, but it was enough for 1% Lifesteal to send a powerful wave of healing through his body, doing little of substance but clearing his mind enough to give him some hope that his plan was possible—until the entire world started vibrating.

The creature screamed with such fervor that the stomach acid began evaporating, and his hearing was destroyed in an instant. The intense vibration nearly shook his heart apart, but he pushed through and took another swing.

The leviathan began shifting, writhing in pain, and he was flung to the other side of the stomach, where he attacked again.

Time was running out faster than expected, and there was no way to breathe as his lungs had been corroded away, and he was rapidly suffocating. With the small dagger and his insufficient strength, there was no way for him to cling to the stomach for longer than a single stab, after which he'd be thrown back into the depths of acidic hell.

Only a single, reckless gamble stood before him, the only thing keeping the fear of unavoidable demise at bay—he dove into the pool of sloshing acid, its rotten, putrid currents near impossible to maneuver through.

But one Create Water after another diluted the viscous liquid enough for him to swim forward, even though he had no clue which direction to swim in. Eventually, he reached the bottom of the stomach and followed the edge along the path he assumed went down, even though that was barely a reliable sign.

Luck was on his side, and fortune must have found his situation funny enough to humor him. There, he discovered the entrance that led him deeper into the intestines, where the liquid grew thicker, and the acid more powerful.

The entire surface of his skin was already damaged beyond repair through ordinary means, and death by shock was seconds away.

With what little essence he had remaining, he engaged Hydraulic Flex, bracing his feet against one side of the intestine and pushed his dagger into the other, and despite putting damn-near everything he had into it, the blade barely sank into the surface.

He was completely deaf, but the vibrations traveling through the viscous liquid told him the intestine's owner wasn't happy with his plan.

With the last of his essence, a Flowing Strike flowed through his body, and the momentum transferred into the dagger, pushing it deeper inside. Another wave of healing washed over him.

Deeper and deeper, the cut went, and soon enough, he could feel the warm flow of blood mixing into the ruthless digestive juice, easing the ever-present pain and encouraging him.

After an eternity of inching the tip to widen the gash, he thought he had made the cut big enough to travel through. Grabbing a loose chunk of tissue, he pulled himself up with a death grip, and crawled his way out into the guts of the leviathan.

***

After nearly an hour of digging through trash like a maniac, Janhalar still hadn't come to terms with it. He had been so close, standing at what felt like the finish line to a long, grueling journey, only to suddenly find himself lost deep in the woods.

What the hell happened? What the hell could have happened? Anything short of reality itself stepping out of its way to bully him wasn't rational enough to explain away this ungodly level of misfortune.

Then he felt it. The connection between his ring and Bloodshed, which had been entirely dead a mere moment ago, sprang to life again. But something was wrong; it was different.

"Don't tell me… it became a spirit!?"

If that was the case, there was only one explanation for what had happened, and as soon as he made the conclusion, the ring flared up again. In his mind's eye, he saw a path. It was a crimson road, a way forward, wading through a metaphorically knee-high river of blood. Without hesitation, he ran down it.

A mile or so away, it took him underground. Digging through trash with fervor unlike anything he'd displayed in his life, he reached a buried old carriage and saw it.

There was a passage that delved into a perhaps B-grade desert realm. And the path in his mind's eye was already leading to another passage, all the way on the other side.

***

All sense of time vanished as Freddy desperately clung to the last string of hope he had. Again and again, he cut through flesh, unsure of where he even was anymore. The insanely high body temperature of the thrashing leviathan was cooking him alive, and the lack of oxygen made him feel like he was constantly on the brink of suffocation.

But thanks to the miraculous work of supreme healing supplied by his talent, he was still alive.

Swinging the already bent and dulled dagger like an animal swung its claws—all instincts heightened to their maximum—he was but a beast trying to survive.

Although at first he thought that was his imagination, by then he was confident his body was shrinking. Such a fervent, intense hunger raged in his gut that he knew his body must have been eating itself alive, be it through the insane calorie consumption or through discarding tissue that had been boiled to well done.

Either way, it was a crisis; his swings were already weakening, and the dehydration was getting critical as well. At some point, he started biting away without even realizing it—swallowing mangled flesh and drinking blood like a parasite.

It wasn't tasty, and it was clearly not suitable for human consumption. Every crumb and drop of meat and blood was like swallowing a thunderstorm that threatened to obliterate his body with whatever ether was concentrated within, and it was only through his talent continuously repairing the damage that he could push through it.

Every so often, he had to dive into the fleshy confines of the Netherecho to replenish his essence reserves—and every time, he found more and more blood wisps surrounding him.

At some point, his weakness started leaving him. Although his body felt like little more than a skeleton with a few strings of flesh attached, unbelievable strength filled it to the point where his bites alone could tear flesh apart like raw dough.

The endless suffocation no longer bothered him. Thoughts of escape fizzled out, and he simply indulged in the never-ending stream of life force flowing into his body.

Then, it began weakening. And whatever effect the flesh had on his mind was briefly pushed aside as he had a terrifying thought—the leviathan was dead, and he was still trapped deep within its body.

A newfound fervor, now born of panic, flushed him as he clawed forward like a mole burrowing through dirt, desperately seeking the way out.

With each swing, the life force grew thinner; soon, he was suffocating again. Gripping torn flesh with the power of a vice grip, he kept pulling himself forward as one downward slash after another forged a path—until his blade struck bone and its tip chipped.

Shit! he screamed internally, terror filling him.

Making his way around the bone, he kept pushing, increasingly uncertain where he was going. But eventually, he broke through and dropped into an open space—a slippery tunnel he immediately started gliding down.

Stabbing the dagger into the wall, he took deep breaths, but the air felt thin. There wasn't much oxygen here, and a powerful smell of fresh meat filled his lungs. Taking effortful breaths, he picked a way to go and clawed his way up. There was a fifty-fifty chance that he was going the right way, and what if he couldn't push past the maze of teeth?

Then, the path before him disappeared again, and he dropped down—right back into the stomach acid.

"Fuck!" he wheezed and rushed to get up. The darkness was absolute. There was no way to tell where the way back was. He braced himself against the side of the stomach and leaped with Hydraulic Flex anyway, but he slammed into a solid surface, bouncing off it and right back into the stomach acid.

The lack of oxygen was well past making him merely dizzy. If it weren't for his peak-one-star reduced need for oxygen, he would have likely already been dead.

The stomach acid was eating his flesh again, but he got up again. And failed to make the jump the second time. And then, the third time. The fourth time, he reached the hole and barely managed to cling to it. With a few desperate pulls, he brought himself back up.

There was another crisis to face. As the muscles relaxed, the beast's throat began closing up. The way back wasn't a climb through an open tunnel but a crawl through a tightly shut barrier of meat flaps. He thought he would push them apart and make his way through, but it was easier said than done. The mucus was drying, turning into glue that sealed the path shut.

But that just happened to be precisely what he needed. It was no longer slippery, and despite yet again facing a lack of air, he at least didn't need to claw his way up with the dagger.

Crawling up, he did his best not to think about how long the neck of the beast was. Instead, he hurried along. At one point, he lost consciousness for a mere moment and decided that he couldn't afford to stop taking swings at the flesh, even though the healing was already petering out.

His exhaustion kept getting worse. The throat kept growing stickier. It wasn't going to happen.

Panicked, he rushed to claw at the throat again, then he pushed his way into the muscle. In death, luckily, the beast's flesh seemed to have gotten a bit more tender, and he found himself emboldened, swinging the dagger faster and praying he didn't hit bone again.

At one point, cutting became more difficult, and he struggled to make much progress. It was hard to even call his dagger a blade by then, as it had been dulled to the point where nothing but the sheer force of his swings made it usable. Suddenly, he saw a faint ray of light, and water poured into the gap.

Widening the opening, he pushed himself out and swam. The entire world spun, and instead of getting brighter, it felt like the surface was growing darker. With each moment, the last bits of his strength thinned, and the wall of absolute exhaustion grew closer.

Then something bit him.

He screamed in reflex and lost what little air he had in his lungs as he turned around to face his assailant. It was a massive fish with giant, serrated teeth, most of which were embedded deep in his leg, where they, admittedly, had little to bite on other than thin muscle, tough skin, and bone.

A flock of these things surrounded him, and he swung the dagger down, empowering his movement with Hydraulic Flex, which worked better underground than Flowing Strike.

The dagger stabbed into the head of the beast, and the intense rush marking the critical strike to its brain made the world brighten again.

The rest of the flock circled him, eyeing him warily, and he panicked. Why didn't they come closer? Were they waiting for him to drown? If so, they didn't have to wait for long! In his desperation, he cut at his own body, hoping that the smell of blood would be enough to bait some of them to come closer.

It worked immediately. Three of the flock broke away and rushed him, but instead of salvation, he faced another crisis. Their attacks were merciless, taking sharp, nasty bites at his body. His attacks weren't fast enough.

One of them grabbed his arm, and he caught something in its throat to keep it in place as he stabbed at it. Through sheer chance, his many swings killed another. While he was keeping suffocation at bay for the moment, the loss of blood would finish him off first.

Another of these demon spawns rushed at him, and in a reflex reaction, he hugged it. The fish swam away at insane speed, and he barely clung to its slippery skin, staying attached through nothing more than his recent practice of sticking to slippery surfaces.

To his immense displeasure, the fish dove down, and if he wasn't tempered by Abyssal Depths, he was sure that he would have lost consciousness due to the intense pressure. But then it changed course. It started swimming up, yet another move that would have killed him if he were an untempered mortal.

He watched with trepidation as the surface rapidly rushed to meet him, and rather than chance the monster turning back down, he let go when he was ten meters from the shore, where he swam up.

Inch by inch, the glorious promise of air reached closer, and with a decisive push, his head finally popped above the surface.

Taking his first breath in what felt like forever was the best feeling he had ever experienced in his life. Granted, the fish that bit his foot the moment later ruined it, but landing a solid stab on its stupid head and killing it improved it again.

Although his focus was on swimming back to shore, he couldn't help but notice the state of his body—the surface of his skin was snow-white, all his hair had been melted off, his nails were crimson red; he was so skinny that he more resembled a well-embalmed mummy than a human.

In fact, if he didn't have the aid of his water manipulation, he would have been sinking due to how dense his body was, both because he had no fat tissue to speak of and because of Abyssal Depths.

Still, effortfully, he pushed his way to the shore and landed. Pulling himself up on the sand, he felt too tired to even breathe.

Just as he was about to succumb to temptation and fall asleep, a man's voice reached his ears. "How incredible…" someone mired, and he quickly rushed to get up—and failed.

He couldn't get up to his feet, no matter how hard he tried, and all he could do was raise his head to take a look.

Two people stood before him—a short man and a tall woman. The woman stood, carrying a crystal saber which she had casually slung over her shoulder, and the man squatted unarmed, cocking his head at him.

No matter who they were, he wasn't happy to see them, and their strange, eerie, square eyes raised every hair on his body—or they would have if he had any left.

"Do you think he will pass the trial?" she asked.

"We shall see," he answered. "I am curious to witness the means of these dwellers. Let us watch."

What the hell are they talking about? he wondered, but then he realized something.

Although it was through absurd means, he had technically just slain a creature God knew how far above him… so why hadn't he felt any ether entering his soul?

Then he looked into his ethercosm.

"Oh… so that's where it went," was all he could say when he saw the storm roiling around his star.

Wisps of dark, shadowy water coiled around it, orbiting it, but none of them sank in and absorbed. Instead, they began dispersing, seemingly disappearing, until—

"Ack!" he gasped as he suddenly felt as if something was trying to burrow its way out of his soul, and as he opened his eyes, he realized that that feeling wasn't far from the truth.

What appeared akin to a painting etched into reality, one of a long neck carrying a monstrous head that resembled the leviathan he had just slain, but angrier, more sinister, and malicious, stared down at him with murder in its eyes.

"Unacceptable," it growled in a deep, thundering voice dripping in venom. "This… it cannot be forgiven. I will not fall to you, parasite!" it bellowed, bending down to bite into his soul like it was trying to take a chunk out of an apple.

Pain far transcending the worst he had felt engulfed his entire being, and it was a miracle that the soul attack hadn't knocked him unconscious.

"How unfortunate…" the man whispered.

"What a shame," the woman lamented. "Without a talisman, his soul is too exposed. Should we end his suffering?" she asked, then cocked an eyebrow. "What is that?"

Suddenly, Freddy felt the burden he was suffering reduce significantly. With blood dripping out of its bony hands, a mirage of his long-lost—no, wait, it was Bloodshed!

The skeleton remnant… or rather, the skeleton spirit as it now seemed to be, gripped the head of the leviathan and pulled it back, trying to extract the invading construct from his soul.

"Master…" it said, "I am sorry for being late."

Tears rushed to his eyes, and he felt overwhelmed by emotion. Not once would he have believed to be capable of feeling such joy at the sight of something so… No, Bloodshed was a precious little munchkin worth every tear he shed, but surrounded by mysterious people and pretty sure they wanted him dead, he didn't know what to do.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a crimson trail descending from one of the floating island-stones. The red blur dropped unnaturally fast, and as the kicked-up sand cleared, the image of a man peered through.

He stood tall in his crimson robes, his red tattoos marking numerous lines over his cheeks, and his white hair draped over his back. An angry, furious expression hung on his face, and he instantly rushed at Freddy and Bloodshed.

"This fucker—" was all Freddy could manage before, suddenly, a massive explosion of fire engulfed the bloody archhuman, and a saber flew at his face with the speed of a fired arrow. The metallic blade was deflected, and the fire poofed out of existence with a burst of bloody mist.

"Who the hell are you!?" Janhalar screamed, eyes red and body swirling with a crimson mist. "I knew someone powerful had to be involved! You wretched scum will face the consequences of your sins!"

"Kaefalge!" the woman yelled.

"I know! This warrior is strong. Stay close to—" he started, but his words were cut off as a sharp projectile of coagulated blood flew past his face.

The Kraven patriarch ran at them, keeping one eye on Bloodshed as he rushed to finish the fight as soon as possible.

That instant of distraction hadn't been a good idea. In that brief moment, the short man conjured an intense orange orb, and seconds later, that turned into a massive explosion of bright, hot fire.

Freddy was caught in the blast and thrown into the ocean with the leviathan and Bloodshed, who was holding onto it.

His skin was severely burned, and the impact had dazed him. Perhaps if he had been awake, he would have had the strength to do something… but there was no more power left in his body.

As the ocean's surface grew more distant, he sank both into the sea and into the depths of unconsciousness.

***

Bloodshed could tell that the situation was desperate, but it wouldn't give up the fight as long as it still stood.

"Let go of me, you vile thing!" the annoying violator screamed, but Bloodshed gripped it tighter.

Pulling itself forward, it used the gap this pest created in Master's soul to also crawl into it. The beautiful blue star, roiling with the cool, methodical mercilessness of Master, and the scattering of tiny specks surrounding it was a sacred, holy sight—

"—and not something to be defiled with such wanton vulgarity!" With a primal scream, Bloodshed dug its clawed hands into the neck of the wretched scum impeding on this pristine temple, and the beastly creature bit back, breaking one of the crimson bones in its arm.

Although Bloodshed had no intent of surrendering the fight, it could tell that it was vastly outmatched.

"Tell me, oh great Master!" it begged. "What is it I should do!?" It craved the wisdom, the infinite well of knowledge it knew its master possessed.

It was then that it saw other vile things invading its master's soul—but this was different. They were caged like the animals they were, and rather than wreaking havoc, their power was constantly being sapped—their might was thoroughly dominated by the Master's will.

Of course… It was enlightened. That was precisely how such beasts should be handled.

With the toothy grin permanently etched into its face growing wider, Bloodshed peered past the surface layer of Master's soul. As always, the aura of bloodshed was thick—this time, numerous times more than ever before. It sank a single claw into it, temporarily borrowing from Master and promising it would work hard to repay this debt.

***

Freddy was roused awake, but he appeared not in his body but in his projection, surrounded by the flickering of distant stars.

Am I dead? he asked, but he soon recognized it to be the inner sanctum of his ethercosm—the inside of his soul.

Why was he here? It was then that he saw the thundering storm of blood wisps roiling in a giant vortex.

What the—

Deep within, the wisps crystallized, transforming into an uneven, messy cage.

Mind flooded with questions, he floated forward, desperately trying to discover what the hell was happening. As the storm cleared, he saw something that blew him away.

Bloodshed stood—nearly torn to pieces—as it placed the final rune on an oddly shaped red cage. The crimson script forming the uneven barrier suddenly pulsed, taking on a deep blue light instead.

Within it, the floating head of the leviathan was trapped entirely, completely unable to break past the barrier. Its roaring quieted, and it gradually went catatonic like the other ether constructs trapped in his soul.

"Blood… shed…" he called, feeling a lump welling in his projection's throat. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I… I am… I am fixing you… Master," it said weakly as one of its bones unraveled into wisps of blood. "I can no longer sustain myself… but it is all right. I have done all I could… I have fulfilled my purpose."

"N… No," he denied it. This couldn't be happening.

Thoughts of power were pushed aside as he cried genuine tears of sadness. For all the people he had met… for all the wretched, unworthy scum he had come across, it was this goofy, bloody skeleton that had loved him the most.

A small laugh escaped him as he thought of it. How absurd. He wanted to deny it, wanted to pin its behavior on nothing but a quirk of its nature, but he knew that wasn't the case. Not entirely. Bloodshed was unique. It had a true soul.

In a sense, it was a person. It wasn't just a mindless construct of ether. And its life, which he had so liberally abused, was at that moment being forfeited to save his own.

There was no goddamn way he would let that happen.

"Bloodshed!" he called out in a commanding tone.

It perked up weakly. "What is it, Master?" it asked, ready to heed his words even in its final moments.

"Hang on just a bit…" he said, voice shivering. "I am going to save you," he promised with a smile.

With all the effort he could muster, he forced himself to shake awake.

There was practically no strength left in his body. With its density, he had sunken to the bottom, and he could already see faint shadows of predators swimming through the darkness around him. With all the will he could muster, he tried to move his arm. But it felt like there was no point. Every cell in his body screamed for substance, and he had nothing to give it.

So, instead of moving his body, he focused on Hydraulic Flex. His drained body was forced to move through the essence, pushing it into action, and his hand moved to pluck a piece of algae. With that, the darkness around him grew slightly brighter. So he pulled more. And more. The world around him brightened with each piece he plucked, and drowning was pushed back by another moment.

The assault of the carnivorous fish was so sudden and his body so numb that it took him a few seconds to register that something was trying to chew his arm off again. With more power than he expected to be able to extract, Hydraulic Flex gripped the bony protrusion that he presumed to be the tongue and pulled. It squirmed and fought him, but his will prevailed as the creature spat out blood and stopped moving.

He plucked one of the creature's sharp teeth and continued flowing.

Anything he came across, be it fish or algae, was torn apart as he went on a rampage. Every shred of focus he could muster went into controlling water to propel him further.

His mangled body was slowly pieced back together.

With each drop of blood he shed, more fish appeared; this time, he welcomed their rush, brawling with them. He bit right back and used the power of Hydraulic Flex to split their jaws apart, barely keeping himself from drowning. His talent was doing far less than he wanted it to, and wounds kept accumulating, but thankfully, the creatures' teeth could only do so much to his bony, rigid body.

He momentarily peered back into his soul. "Bloodshed!" he demanded. "Lend me your help!"

He had no idea what he wanted it to do, but it nodded anyway. With a moment of concentration, he began meditating. The thoughts of serene water and calm lakes were wholly pushed aside as he imagined rivers of blood instead.

Instantly, an intense backlash struck his soul. Indeed, he didn't have a blood affinity. There was no way he could attract wisps of blood.

But Bloodshed sensed what he was trying to do, and with a faint light in its eyes, it floated over to his star. Standing next to the roiling mass of ether, it dipped a claw inside.

Freddy felt as if the core of his being was being pierced, but the smallest of hints of red appeared. Then he returned to meditating.

He nearly gasped in shock once he did. The water around him was thick with numerous wisps of blood, and, ignoring the fish ravaging his body, he focused on absorbing them.

Eventually, he had to fight back, if anything, just to undo the damage the lack of oxygen was doing; then, he quickly glanced at his soul—and froze once he did.

There, orbiting his star, was another uneven cage. Bloodshed was inside it, whole but unresponsive.

"Bloodshed!" he screamed. "Bloodshed, no!" he cried as he grasped the oddly shaped cage of runes. "This wasn't what I wanted…"

"This was the best way to keep myself alive," it responded.

"Oh." He stepped back. "You're alive!" he suddenly realized.

"Master, I need your consent."

Before he could ask for what, he felt it. The cage before him tightened, trying to crystallize, but it couldn't. With a nod, he forged the ability. A raging red light ignited in Bloodshed's eyes, and the cage solidified in its odd shape with a giant splash of blood that traveled over to his star.

A massive surge of power entered him as he felt the blue mass of light slowly split into one half blue, and the other half red.

But before he could ponder his new affinity, he rushed back outside. There, he was still in a fight with several fish. He swung over and over, healing himself, but… he had accumulated too many wounds. His talent was being split between one too many crises to keep up with the drowning.

Despair at failure overwhelmed him, but as it did, the faint voice of Bloodshed echoed from his soul, "Don't worry, Master…" it comforted him. "I will take over from here."

***

Janhalar ducked beneath a lance of flame and kicked away the woman's wrist as he deflected her saber.

Who were these people? Only at the peak of two stars, they had such skill and power that they could nearly stand up to him in a fight. Nearly.

The woman was severely injured, with his recent kick wounding her right wrist and several previous strikes bruising her stomach. One of the man's eyes was closed shut, and his gait was uncertain. These fools wouldn't last much longer, but they weren't his primary concern anyway.

"Why do you stand in my way!?" he asked.

In response, the man grinned. "Relinquish that spirit, and we will be out of your way."

Janhalar scowled at that. "You miserable—"

Suddenly, the nature of his ring's bond with the spirit had changed again. He could still feel where it was, but there was something concerning about that connection.

He had to quickly—

In his moment of distraction, the woman suddenly summoned a phantasmal blade mirroring the shape of the other she still held in her hand and threw it at him. The sudden appearance of the weapon was unexpected, and as he hadn't been prepared for it, it lightly grazed his cheek, causing a few drops of his blood to fly off and drop into the ocean.

Perhaps he should hurry and use Patriarch's Domai—

Suddenly, something felt deeply wrong. His senses flared up, and he could feel something extremely concerning. Those drops of blood he had just lost—they were moving, joining a tremendous volume of blood that was gathering at the bottom of the ocean.

The man prepared to launch another lance of fire, but before he could, Janahar screamed and rushed into the water.

There, he saw the massive carcass of an oceanic monstrosity… and all of its blood flowing through a wound on its neck, gathering around where he felt the spirit was located. A deep, profound sense of panic enveloped him. He felt exactly where the few drops of his blood were. With all his power, he kept trying to retrieve them, but it was to no avail. It was too dilute, too scattered.

No! he screamed internally. No, no, no! If even a single drop reaches that mass of blood…!

***

The suffocation had nearly overcome Freddy. His thoughts felt floaty, and he wasn't all there. His mind was primarily asleep, tired, waning as his brain cells perished, screaming for oxygen.

"I have gathered all the blood I could," Bloodshed declared.

"For what?" he asked numbly.

Its cage flickered for a moment, and its eyes glowed a deep, crimson red.

A strange set of two words flowed into his mind. Without hesitation, he mouthed them.

"Blood Sacrifice."

***

Firrita and Kaefalge remained on the surface, cradling their wounds.

The woman breathed heavily. "That man… his skills are primitive, but he still holds the power of four stars. Should we retreat?"

Kaefalge frowned. "That might be the best choice," he said, "but that skeleton is a great opportunity. We are in an unknown part of the Great Labyrinthe. Every advantage we can find will serve us well."

She scoffed. "You say 'we.'" she noted, a slight edge to her voice. "Both of us are risking our lives, but only one gets the spirit."

He smiled. "You are right to be skeptical, woman, so I will tell you openly; I want that thing for myself," he admitted.

She shook her head. "If we could have it, I would gladly hand it to you, but I don't think—"

Suddenly, they both froze. Their instincts flared up, and they glanced around. They whirred, trying to locate the source. An all-encompassing thirst for blood surrounded them, conjuring images of death and destruction.

"What in the gods' name is that!?" Firrita called, sweat trickling down her body.

It felt as if reality itself was bleeding. Then, with a burst of otherworldly, immense pressure, the ocean rose in a titanic wave as a massive, bloody spinal column shot up to the sky, followed by another, and then another. Three enormous skulls dripping in blood were carried on the bony, serpentine columns, and thinner, spiny appendages appeared, rising like tentacles out of the water and whipping the island with immense, earth-shattering force as the entire sea adopted the color of blood.

"On second thought," Kaefalge surrendered, "you are correct. We must leave. Immediately."

***

Janhalar flew out of the water, pushed back by an intense wave as he was washed ashore. "What in the name of the…!?" he shouted, staring in terror at the being radiating immense blood aura.

This couldn't be. This was impossible. He still sensed the spirit and where it was, so what on earth was this thing? It couldn't have possibly evolved into an eidolon, and even if it had, this was far bigger than any eidolon he had ever heard of.

However, the thoughts of turning around and escaping were not on his mind. Instead, a pure, primal rage boiled as he roared at the sky. After spilling his fury, he took a deep breath and calmed down. His eyes sharpened, and his determination forged itself into a blade. On his name as Janhalar, the patriarch of what would one day become the supreme clan of blood, he swore on his life that he wouldn't walk out of that realm without that spirit in his possession.

***

Freddy was stirred out of his stupor as a river of life force flowed directly into his body, rapidly pushing the suffocation away. The water around him was tinged red. As he floated back up to the surface, he froze, his mind uncomprehending as he stared at the titanic creature of blood and bone.

"B-B-B-" he spluttered. "Bloodshed?" he asked, fearing the answer.

One of the titanic heads turned to him, causing every muscle in his body to tighten, and he heard the voice in his head. "Yes, Master," it answered.

He grinned. A crazed, disbelieving grin spread from one ear to another as he started cackling.

Then he heard the roar coming from the beach.

Any questions he might have had were interrupted by the massive spear of hardened blood that pierced right through his back, crushing his heart instantly.

He gasped, turning around to face the culprit, who stared at him with a manic look in his eye. Before death could come, however, he felt the spear being pushed out of his body. And as soon as it was out, the damage it had left was gone as if it hadn't even been there.

"Holy shit," he said. "That's a lot of lifesteal…" But how? "Don't tell me…" he wondered as he turned around, gazing at the endless ocean of crimson red. Was he killing everything this water touched?

Every few moments, a small rush of wisps coursed into his soul. Every creature he killed supplied him with ether, and as with any wisp one collected, a small part of that directly worked to replenish his essence.

At that moment… for as long as whatever Bloodshed had done lasted… he had practically unlimited essence and life force.

Feeling drunk on the flood of power, he turned to face the Kraven patriarch. "Bloodshed!" he screamed. "Attack!" he commanded, unsure of what to expect.

One of the three massive heads dove down, rushing toward Janhalar, who was already running to get out of its way. Numerous tentacles impeded his progress, while a second skull bit into a floating island that it threw at the patriarch.

Whatever he had expected, it definitely hadn't been that.

The first skull slammed into the landmass, kicking up a giant cloud of dust and sending a shockwave, while the landing meteorite had an even more significant impact. Despite all this, the image of the Kraven bastard appeared, his feet gliding over the tsunami those two attacks had created, rushing straight at him.

Right. An ocean of blood was probably good for him too, it seemed.

He quickly dove underwater, aiming to hide from the crazed clan leader, but it was useless. The white-haired man was after him instantly, traveling with the speed of a torpedo.

A large spike of blood appeared in the man's hand, and he swung, cutting his body apart with nearly no resistance—and with even fewer consequences. No matter what Janhalar did, his near-immortality seemed enough to keep him alive.

As he reached for the head, however, the near-immortal wasn't keen on questioning the limits of his current state, and luckily, neither was Bloodshed, who swung its third head at the two of them, kicking up another bloody tsunami and separating them as a spine pushed him up above the surface of the ocean.

The spinal columns created a large bridge in the sky that he could travel over, and without hesitation, he used Hydraulic Flex to run forward. Or, well, he tried to. His body felt pathetically weak, even with all the healing. Not to mention that the unstable, shaking spinal column wasn't the easiest to run across.

Opting to avoid falling off instead, he hugged the bridge of bone, but that wouldn't be enough.

Rising out of the ocean like a bloody dragon, Janhalar jumped on the spine right ahead of him, and in a flash, he appeared beside him. Just as the lunatic was about to turn his brain into mush with a bloody spear, another spine smashed into the man's side with a flick and threw him into the water again.

The massive heads tried their best, but the patriarch was a tiny, fast target. While he had been somewhat confident moments ago, he suddenly realized that he was, indeed, fighting a four-star Lord.

And it wasn't like running away was possible.

The Kraven patriarch jumped again, bouncing off three consecutive columns as he flew at Freddy, and this time, the swing reached, cutting right through his target's neck. Fleshy tendrils grew out to try and reconnect Freddy's head to the rest of his body, but the patriarch kicked his head away before that could happen.

Dropping into the ocean, he was still alive, although he was quite literally just a head bobbing in the raging tides. His healing worked overtime to reconstruct his cells. Bit by bit, forming out of nothing but the never-ending stream of lifeforce he was receiving, he felt the rest of his body growing back out, but the patriarch was already on his way to finish him off.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

The situation was desperate. The world around him slowed to a crawl at the unstoppable approach of certain death. He instantly grew hyper-aware of everything around him… including a particular, yet-to-be-crystallized shell floating aimlessly through his ethercosm.

With a burst of will, he crystallized the shell holding the leviathan. A splash of dark, ghastly water with shapes shifting inside it entered his star, splitting it three ways as it added a third component.

With no time to ponder his new affinity, he refocused, which was easier said than done, given that he was a loose head sloshing in a roiling ocean. He didn't know why, but Blood Sacrifice, the ability he used to summon Bloodshed, needed to be named to be used. Spotting a brief flash of an angry patriarch making his way through the water, his lips mouthed, "Leviathan's Fury!"

Suddenly, bone-like protrusions grew out of his head, cracking his skull and shredding his flesh as they formed a large head of bone just like that of the leviathan that bit down on the patriarch.

Janhalar was caught off-guard, likely as being attacked so viciously by a floating head wasn't something one usually expected to face, and the attack bit down on his arm, halting his charge, but did no damage whatsoever.

A moment later, Leviathan's Fury vanished as if it hadn't even been there, leaving a void of water that imploded with a loud thud.

There was a somewhat awkward moment as Janhalar glared at the disembodied floating head, staring in disbelief.

Panicked, he uttered "Leviathan's Fury!" again.

Once more, the same thing happened, but the patriarch defended himself this time.

His new ability seemed to cost absolutely nothing in essence, but it dealt tremendous damage to his body in return. As he missed again, he realized the true weight of using Leviathan's Fury like that. The damage it had done to his head was recovering incredibly slowly, and he couldn't even see anything as his eyes had been destroyed.

In the next moment, a massive skull crashed down on them again, and he was once more pushed away. A second head grabbed him in its teeth and, with an enormous downpour of bloody ocean water, raised him onto one of the floating rocks. From there, all he could see was the shifting red ceiling, and all he could hear was the intense showdown happening below as Bloodshed continued the fight.

The damage recovered at a snail's pace, and as his arms gradually grew back out, he crawled over to get a better look. It wasn't looking good. Despite these miraculous circumstances, bridging the gap against an elite four-star Lord was no joke.

The man was gradually destroying Bloodshed. He had manifested a giant spear, the swings of which sounded like cracks of lightning. Suddenly, the man's entire body emitted a horrifying aura as the image of four stars appeared, burning deep within the man's body.

He raised his hand, and with a crimson light, a massive spear of blood shot out, turning into a red blur as it slammed into one of the spines, felling one of the three giant skulls as the spine shattered at its base.

"Fuck!" he screamed. With one head down for the count, it wouldn't be long until the man finished the fight. Without thinking, Freddy pushed himself into freefall and flew toward the fight.

"Bloodshed!" he commanded, and one of the giant skulls moved down to redirect his fall. "Throw me at that piece of shit!"

Obediently, Bloodshed did, and he, who hadn't even grown his legs back yet, came crashing down with the force of a shooting star. Flowing Strike coursed through his body, and he readied himself to land a massive punch.

He was on a trajectory to completely miss.

Thus, he ignored the backlash of the failed Flowing Strike and screamed, "Leviathan's Fury!" The head rushed toward the patriarch again, biting down on the man's arm again and yanking him off the column he was standing on.

"You bastard!" Janhalar yelled. "What have you done!?"

The head of the leviathan vanished again, and just as it did, Bloodshed swung a spine at the patriarch. The man deftly dodged the attack by ejecting a high-pressure burst of blood from his hand as both men crashed into the ocean, the blood arch rushing at him, thrusting a bloody spike that came within inches of piercing his brain, but—

"Leviathan's Fury!" he mouthed as fast as he could, using the spurs of bone as a makeshift shield that took the brunt of the attack, getting crushed under the force of the patriarch's impact and sending Freddy flying back, nearly unconscious but still alive.

A moment later, one of the giant skulls grabbed Freddy out of the water with its teeth, and the other launched a huge sky rock at Janhalar.

The young man was dragged back to the island's shores, where he felt his legs finally grow back. His body was horribly thin, barely more than skin and bone. He braced himself as the most recent of the tsunamis was about to wash over him, but a helpful spine tentacle lifted him above it. Good Bloodshed.

That crazy bastard was nowhere to be found, but he knew better than to believe that had finished him off. Indeed, the next moment, he spotted a red flash jumping out on the beach and rushing at him at an impossible speed.

Janhalar slashed at Freddy's head, and a spine tentacle moved to block his attack again, but the man used incredible brute force to kick it out of the way with a thundering smash of cracking bone as he continued his attack, now nothing standing between him and his target.

"Leviathan's Fury!" shouted Freddy again, but the man roared as he swung his spear and crushed the head of bone into splinters and threw the spear at his target, which flew right at Freddy's mouth, crushing his teeth as it pierced through the back of his neck and flew all the way through, severing his spine, instantly robbing him of the ability to move and pushing him to the brink of death.

The man raised his arm again, and the terrifying glow of four stars igniting flashed into view once more, signaling an attack that would be impossible to survive.

But—

Despite his nerves being cut off, nothing stopped Freddy from moving his body with Hydraulic Flex. Just as the patriarch fired the spear of blood again, half of Freddy's core muscles tightened with all they had. He swung his head far enough that the attack only carved through the side of his head instead of blowing his brain apart—an attack that would knock anyone else unconscious, but to him, who had endured never-ending torment and tempered his body with Hundred Wet Hells, it was just tolerable enough.

His jaw hung slack, broken and disabled, preventing him from using Leviathan's Fury.

The patriarch stared at him wide-eyed as he gritted his teeth and prepared another attack.

It was the same face the man used to make whenever his torture methods failed.

The same ugly expression Freddy had gotten all too used to seeing.

With every cell and shred of his being, he forced the water in his mouth and jaw muscles to move. Leviathan's Fury.

The patriarch didn't have the time to dodge and he had no weapon to defend himself with.

Instead, his skin turned a deep shade of crimson as he used an ability to form a thin layer of protective blood all across his form just as his entire body was grasped in the maw of the leviathan. "Re… Release me!" His ability successfully prevented any of the teeth from sinking in and doing proper damage. "Release me!" But he was trapped, entombed in a shell of metallic blood and kept in place by an ivory jaw.

The bloody armor flowed back into his body as Janhalar, with a sudden burst of power, flexed his muscles and started tearing the head apart.

It was as if levers were attached to Freddy's bones, and with every push, more cracks resounded through his mangled form. But he couldn't feel any of it.

Blood… shed, he called in his mind.

The skeleton gazed down at him. It wasn't attacking. The two men were too close to one another, and any attack powerful enough to hurt the patriarch would probably kill him, too.

With another push, the bloody archhuman came another step closer to setting himself free.

The inpour of lifesteal was weakening, and the cost of maintaining Leviathan's Fury outweighed the recovery.

Bloodshed's empty eye sockets gazed down at them. Then, its jaw started crackling, its massive eyes shining like two crimson stars as the entire realm grew a shade redder.

Janhalar's struggle stopped as the man froze at the sudden presence.

Bloodshed screamed, the entire realm shaking with its booming voice. Its two remaining heads flew down toward them, casting their forms in shadow.

"No!" the patriarch screamed, tripling his efforts as one head approached to bite down on him. "Noooo!"

The other head bit down on Freddy. Then, with massive force and the visceral sound of tearing flesh and snapping bones, the skeleton forced their bodies apart, breaking the deadlock.

Freddy's mind turned blank, and he started fading.

The last thing he heard was Bloodshed's voice, saying, "I believe in you, Master," as the head holding the patriarch rose high into the air and crashed into the beach with tremendous force. The last thing he felt was the immense flood of lifesteal as his mind wavered and he lost consciousness.

***

It took an unknown amount of time for Freddy to wake up. But as he did, and as he forced himself up, he quickly realized that he was in far better shape than the mangled patriarch, whose entire left arm was bent behind his back. But the man was already on his feet and shambling forward.

His eyes widened. Bloodshed was gone, and it seemed his ability had run out of whatever fuel had kept it active.

He didn't know what to do.

Janhalar stared at him with bloodshot eyes. "You…" he accused. "What… did… you do?" he cried. "What did you do with the spirit!?" he demanded an answer.

Feeling a sudden outburst of emotion welling up, he answered, "I… I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything, you piece of fucking shit!" he screamed, feeling tears running down his face. "From the very goddamn beginning, I haven't done a single thing that deserves your judgment! And you have taken all the liberty you could, every step of the way to—"

"Shut up!"

"You have been—"

"I said shu—"

"No, you—"

"Shut up, vermin!" Janhalar screamed.

"I won't shut up!" he refused. "Let me speak!"

"Well I won't let you speak!" the man insisted. "You have no right to speak in front of meeee!" the man yelled, stomping a foot as he threw a tantrum, madness in his eyes. "Kneel and apologize!"

"Leviathan's Fury!" said Freddy instead, sending a sudden attack that the patriarch was helpless to defend against as his body was bitten down on and mangled further.

Janhalar struggled to breathe as blood flowed down his body as if he had a whole lake of it. The crimson liquid carved a small stream into the sand as it made its way to the surface of the sea.

The damage Freddy did offset some of the damage he took, but not a lot. As the Leviathan's head retracted, his entire body was left full of holes, and several of his bones were broken. Without the endless influx of healing, the true nature of the cost of this ability finally revealed itself.

It was thoroughly crippling. No, it was more than that. Using it… It was suicide.

But it had done its job.

Janhalar couldn't get up anymore, even though he desperately tried.

"Have you been like this your whole life… you miserable twat?" Freddy muttered, barely mustering the strength to speak.

"Sub… human… waste…" the patriarch returned as he started getting back up again.

"You…" he tried to say, barely standing on his feet.

There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't even move a single muscle. Even in his absolutely decrepit state, the man was still far too much for him to handle.

"I see…" he said, resigning himself to whatever was about to happen. If he would die anyway, he would take the man down with him. "Leviathan's Fury."

The ability flew out again; this time, the Kraven patriarch was skewered without even the barest of defenses to stop the attack. "You…" the man eked out, the hatred, fury, and pride in his eyes extinguishing. "You…" He breathed out… as the final remnants of his willpower flickered like a candle before a gust of wind. Leviathan's bony head retracted again, and Janhalar, the patriarch of the Kraven Clan, dropped to the ground.

Dead.

Freddy soon followed him. A sense of catharsis filled his body as he realized he would join the man soon. This was it.

I am gonna have to face another "trial" or whatever? he pondered with a hint of humor, thinking back to the words of those strange individuals. Hesitantly, he took a look at his own soul again.

But there was no storm surrounding his star this time, and there was no trial. A massive influx of wisps flowed like a river of blood right into his star, which bulged. In moments, it reached 90% completion, then 95%, 99%, and then, it overflowed. The surface of his star roiled stormily, ready to explode at any moment.

His eyes widened ever so slightly.

Without hesitation, he discarded all the trash abilities he had no use for and sparked the nova of ascension. Moments later, the large mass of ether exploded violently, lighting up his entire ethercosm and reforging it with ethereal flames. Once the mist settled and the excess power receded, he observed the sight of two stars. One full and almost solid-looking, and the other around a tenth of its size, both roiling with the lighter blue of water, dark red of blood, and the deep blue of a mysterious third affinity.

A flood of natural-quality healing poured into his body, doing no more than speeding up its natural recovery. But it was enough to haul him back from the brink of death and give him a chance.

A voice rang through his soul—the sweet call of a long-forgotten prime—as the violent, yellow eyes opened once more.

Unshackled to bear the weight it demands, unlimited, unscarred of fate's filthy hands.

***

Benjamin shook profusely as he walked through the caves near Camp Violet. He was still new to the job, so being sent out into the wilderness, where something had burned hundreds of people to death, put him just a bit out of his element, to say the least.

He stood beside his two colleagues, the beautiful Elena and the tight-arsed Henry.

The danger had been well-scouted, he knew; they were relatively safe, he worked to convince himself, but with each step they took further into these haunted caves, he felt his knees grow weaker.

The sudden ringing of Henry's phone caused him to yelp, and he turned around, blushing as Elena eyed him weirdly.

Oh, crap. He regretted it. I just had to go and— He froze. His stomach dropped as he spotted something approaching them from the shadows. A ghoul of some sort shambled toward them, and before he could even scream, he launched a Stone Bullet at it. The man-shaped monster buckled over, and he prepared to attack again, making sure Elena saw how cool he was while—

Suddenly, Henry rushed at him and grabbed him by the arm, yelling, "Idiot! That's a person!"

"Wh… What?" he asked dumbly.

Henry pushed him roughly as he walked forward.

"Oh… fuck," he cursed as he realized that, indeed, the thing he just shot at was… a survivor. A man with severe burns all over the upper part of his body. He had just attacked a heavily injured survivor. Oh, man.

Henry carefully pushed the man over into a more comfortable position and examined him. Then, he spoke into the phone, which was still on line with the sergeant. "Sergeant Jefferson, I have found another survivor. Appears to be male, severely injured, with heavy burn scars all over the upper side of his body. He was prematurely identified as a threat, and he had suffered an attack by Stone Bullet, stage one. I'm requesting backup on my location. Send medical support."

Then, Henry saw a strange object that the burned man clutched tightly in his hands. After extracting it carefully, he added, "I would like to request higher priority. The man has been identified as a staff member, an official employee of Camp Violet…

"His name is Peter Vane."