1% Lifesteal

Ethereal mercy. It was a phenomenon that single-handedly made most abilities possible. The supernatural recovery from ether backlash was the only reason tempering techniques even existed, and some affinities, like fire or death, would be utterly unusable without it.

Freddy carefully observed how his arm recovered from the Flowing Strike he had used against the dummy. The cracked bone, burst veins, torn muscle—it all slowly reverted, almost as if time itself was being rewound. After not even a few hours, it healed.

But he felt it. Consequences still remained. He had grown used to having a practically perfect body, and now, even the tiniest of imperfections stood out.

For a while at least, he would have to live with them.

During the time he had been recovering, he had made a quick trip to a nearby library. The clerk had eyed him and his clearly severe arm injury with a curious expression on their face, but it wasn’t like it was an uncommon sight in the world of archhumans.

As for what he went to get, it was a book, of course. It cost him only a few hundred dollars. As for what it was, it was much like the guide for water abilities he purchased back in the private neighborhood, just way less fancy—The Blood Affinity: A Comprehensive Guide for Beginners.

There were no ether imprints, essence flow guides, moving pictures, or anything other than plain, boring text. And for a good reason. He was done using crutches like that for his development. The more an archhuman developed their power, the greater the need for a unique understanding of their affinities and the synergy with their talent.

One day, he might stumble upon an interesting, promising idea for a tempering technique. But it would hold no value if he couldn't develop it himself.

As he paid the bill, he walked into a quiet corner of the library, sat between two dusty bookshelves covering old history, and started reading.

The book was enlightening in many ways. He didn’t get too far into it, but he quickly learned what he needed to get started.

First was the Pool of Blood tempering technique. This was the ability that was effectively the foundation of the entire affinity. Without it, in all but the most peculiar cases, using one’s blood as a weapon was virtually impossible.

Ethereal Mercy did apply to blood loss due to using the affinity, but it couldn’t stop that blood loss from killing the user.

In came the Pool of Blood tempering technique. It was an ability quite similar to Abyssal Depths, with one key difference. While Abyssal Depths worked to compress liquid into the body, Pool of Blood aimed to increase the volume.

At stage zero, it was called Puddle of Blood; it dilated the veins and could increase the overall volume of blood by around 25%. That was very little. So little, in fact, that blood archs were considered virtually useless before upgrading the ability to stage one—when it officially turned into Pool of Blood.

The key difference at stage one was that the ability conjured something akin to dimensional storage inside a blood arch’s heart through concepts like internal storage or increased capacity.

While Abyssal Depths worked in increments of 30%, the blood capacity of the Pool of Blood grew exponentially. First, it was 25% at Puddle of Blood, then doubled at Pool of Blood, quintupled at Lake of Blood, and, finally, at Sea of Blood, it could increase up to twenty times in capacity. The book only speculated on what the fourth stage looked like since the only people who could even get stage four abilities had to be at least elite four-star archhumans, and few among them readily shared the secrets of their abilities.

As for using both Abyssal Depths and Puddle of Blood, there should be no issues with that. Interestingly enough, the abilities wouldn’t interact at all. It wasn’t as if there were no cases of tempering techniques from two different affinities clashing, but it wasn’t as common as within a single affinity.

Reading further, he discovered that the blood affinity had what could be roughly defined as three main paths, barring peculiar exceptions. All three paths were determined by a single tempering technique, and since they all aimed to change the properties of the blood within the arch’s body, only one could be picked.

Rich Blood, Red Venom, and Crimson Mercury were the three primary tempering techniques of the blood affinity.

Rich Blood made one’s blood, well, rich. It enabled incredible physical performance through Blood Rush, an ability that consumed one’s blood for a power boost. It was a rather one-note path, but it wasn’t a bad one. Its potency couldn’t be reasonably compared to water and earth affinity when it came to overall utility for martial arts, but when it came to raw strength and endurance, it was the best there was as far as basic affinities were concerned.

It was also the path that held the most compatibility with taming monsters through blood pacts. But that was rather rare to see, even if most people tried it if they got the opportunity to.

Red Venom turned one’s blood incredibly toxic, starting with just making it poisonous, then acidic, then necrotic, and, ultimately… explosive. Which seemed out of place, but it fit the path perfectly. This was the most popular path for most blood archs, as it focused on casting and long-ranged abilities. Such routes were generally more popular, as few people wanted to get close and personal with the things they were fighting.

And, finally, Crimson Mercury, which was also the path that Janhalar had been following. As for this tempering technique, one’s blood became metallic, making it incredibly easy to coagulate into weapons or projectiles. It could be used pretty well at both short and long range.

As for which ability he would take… he was partial to Rich Blood. It synergized the best with his style. It even stated in the book that the choice was a trendy one when coupled with another affinity since it greatly simplified the path of blood, reducing it to a single tempering technique and only one core ability.

Of course, most who only went down that one path had other abilities, too, but when one had several affinities to work with, it was best to keep one as their primary and the others as secondary, lest they overburden themselves with too many undeveloped skills.

But… he wondered. Red Venom was definitely too beside the point for his current path unless he wanted to fully respec himself as a caster, but there was a solid argument for him to go with Crimson Mercury—it was the most essence-efficient.

True, Rich Blood sounded great. But Blood Rush—the core ability of the path—while really powerful, was an essence-guzzler like no other. Crimson Mercury, on the other hand, mainly relied on weapon-conjuring abilities. The blood itself became like metal; thus, shaping it into the form of a weapon didn’t require all that much essence, just a relatively small burst to make it coagulate.

But that had a whole different problem—which weapon would he use? Weapons weren’t really his thing since he never quite had a teacher, formal education, or any other opportunity to learn how to use one.

The choice wasn’t easy.

But for the time being, there was no need to rush.

Once his arm healed, he started walking back to the gym. On his way there, he suddenly remembered something. Taking a quick moment to dive into his soul, he consulted his good friend Bloodshed on what he should do.

“You should temper your blood into a metal,” it advised immediately.

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Why?” Naturally, he appreciated the spirit’s advice but was curious about its reasoning.

“The dagger you possess,” it started, “its power will transfer into any weapon you conjure as long as you’re holding it.”

That made him pause. “Seriously!? Will it still work if I turn those weapons into projectiles?”

“No, it will not,” the spirit clarified.

That did suck a bit. He still vividly recalled the spears that Janhalar had thrown at him during their fight. That was a damn powerful ranged attack, and it depended on one’s physical strength, which was a massive advantage of his. It wasn’t like he still couldn’t do something like that, but it was a bummer that the boost only applied to weapons he was still holding.

"Is there any other reason you want me to go with that path?" he asked, just in case. Basing his choice on a single weapon that wasn't even unique wasn't the greatest long-term decision.

"I can only advise you on the best path if you wish to spill more blood," it said. "I have no input on anything else."

“Fair enough," he said.

Although he could eventually lose the dagger, just knowing that the effects of weapons like that could translate to weapons he conjured was enough to elevate Crimson Mercury in his eyes. There was still the question of exactly what weapon he would use if he decided to go down that route, so he decided to mull it over some longer. He didn’t have to make a choice until he finished Puddle of Blood.

With his injury nearly gone, he walked back to the gym. Then, he started his workout.

He eased himself into it, sticking to a bit below his previous best. As always, he first thoroughly warmed up, then prepared to bench, squat, and deadlift. It wasn’t a wise schedule for anyone who couldn’t swiftly recover from such exercise, and the risk of getting injured was relatively high, but training full body every day was something he was comfortable with.

He first started with the bench, setting the weight to 120 kgs, around twenty below his previous maximum. He had lost much muscle mass and wouldn’t risk it by overestimating himself.

As soon as he placed his hands on the barbell, he could tell—this was going to be light. And once he pushed, he confirmed it. In fact, it was so easy that he dropped the set halfway through it and added another 10 kgs.

Again, it was too easy.

So he added another ten.

And another.

And once again, another.

By the time he was benching 180 kgs, he was just starting to feel the burden.

In the end, he did ten reps at 200 kgs, and he didn’t push himself further because the previous test sets had exhausted him.

Feeling quite confident, he started the squat at 200 kgs. In the end, he did 250. As for the deadlift, he did 300. Neither of those felt quite there yet for the most he could do, and he could knock out 10 reps without even breaking a sweat.

“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath. How the hell did he possess such monstrous strength? By all means, he should definitely be weaker than he had been at his peak, but it didn’t feel like that was the case.

And the fact that he was a two-star wasn’t a valid explanation, either. He was still at the beginning, far from realizing the full potential of his improved physique.

With every subsequent exercise, he tested himself as he inched closer to what he felt was his limit. While he wasn’t the strongest person in that gym—far from it—he was definitely above the common rabble. And this was just the beginning.

He ended his workout in a pretty solid mood. Once he returned home, he showered, ate two dozen very-hard-boiled eggs and a massive pot of overcooked potatoes, and went to bed.

When he woke up the following day, he started his new daily routine.

First, he got into his gear, then he went out to the hub. There, he joined Theodore’s party and worked as their helper. After that was finished, he went to the gym. He first trained his abilities, working on growing Flowing Strike and Hydraulic Flex. As soon as he exhausted his essence, he worked his muscles and used the breaks between sets to dive into the Netherecho and recover his essence.

Once done with that, he returned home. Back home, he worked on Puddle of Blood.

Surprisingly, it only took him a single day to perfect the shell. It was pretty easy to do, actually. All he had to do was synchronize an essence pulse with his heartbeat, temporarily spiking his blood pressure and stretching his cardiovascular system.

While it caused a killer headache, compared to the difficulty of creating Hydraulic Flex and the pain of using Hundred Wet Hells, it was child’s play to develop.

Given that it had been surprisingly easy, he slotted the tempering technique right into his regular schedule. He hadn’t made up his mind on the path he would take, so he postponed the decision further until he could upgrade Puddle of Blood to Pool of Blood.

First, he briefly used Adaptive Water Body. Then, he worked on Abyssal Depths and Puddle of Blood, replenishing his essence reserves between every session.

Eventually, he felt that he had done enough, so he ended the day by doing some plain old gathering.

While the ether density in Nova York at large was quite great, that didn’t mean that there were all that many wisps to go around. There weren’t even any vestiges in his apartment. It made sense. Countless archhumans lived in this part of Nova York; all of them had to gather.

In the end, all he could settle for were loose wisps of miscellaneous advanced affinities that didn’t have enough archhumans around to suck them up. As expected of a city, glass, metal, rust, fabric, and wood were the most common.

Although he hadn’t thought much about it until then, he realized that he was growing incredibly slowly. That was highly concerning. Given his relatively recent achievements, shouldn’t he have been blazing through the early stages of his second star?

It was a problem that bothered him enough to walk out of his apartment and go to the library to find an explanation. There, he paid for a membership, allowing him to borrow one book at a time that he could take anywhere. The tier he subscribed to, which gave full access to all basic and intermediate texts, cost 8000 dollars a month, and he spent that much without hesitation. If he came here daily, as he intended to, the membership would pay for itself soon enough.

After a bit of browsing, he relatively quickly discovered the explanation for his current problem. This was another one of those things he had heard of but never quite knew what it was—aura.

Aura was most easily seen by observing cursed objects in the Netherecho. It was ether taking form by attaching itself to an object. In this case, an archhuman’s soul was the object in question. And this could be seen most easily by observing the inside of the ethercosm.

Stars were, in essence, aura constructs. But they weren’t all the aura there was in the soul.

There was also latent aura. It could be seen as a counterweight to the star, existing invisibly beneath the surface layer of the soul. It was this form of aura that permitted the growth of a star by acting as a foundation for it.

Latent aura grew whenever an archhuman performed a notable feat. Be it creating a powerful object, defeating a mighty enemy, overcoming their limits, consuming a potent treasure, or any other demanding, improbable event. The more latent aura there was, the bigger the star could be.

This was why fighting, or at least some form of profession was crucial for developing one’s power. Without the latent aura, growth stagnated and slowed until it stopped altogether. This was also the most significant cause of bottlenecks in an arch’s development.

So what happened? Couldn’t his actions so far be counted as pretty incredible? Frankly, given what he had accomplished, he simply couldn’t believe that he was lacking latent aura. But as he read on, he realized that, unfortunately, that was precisely the case.

With every ascension, all of the latent aura in the soul was consumed, wiping the slate clean. This wasn’t to say that it was wasted; it actually went into improving one’s talent, which was why many people postponed their ascensions until they could gather enough latent aura to significantly impact the quality and power of their talent.

This begged another question—

“What!?” he scream-whispered into his chin as he angrily scratched his head.

If that was the case, shouldn’t his talent have changed far more than it had?

So he read on. Eventually, he stumbled across a paragraph that made him raise an eyebrow.

Talents are not created equal. Some hold considerably more power than others, and as such, the amount of latent aura required to trigger a significant evolution increases proportionally. If enough latent aura isn’t supplied, the talent will either change minimally—or not at all.

After he read this part, he slowly closed the book. A frown hung on his face. He walked all the way back home in silence.

As he got ready to go to bed, he couldn’t help but finally ask himself—just how powerful was 1% Lifesteal?

***

The next morning and the rest of the day played out much the same as the last. Wake up, delve, train, temper, gather, read, and sleep.

Theodore kept making absurd offers, all of which went ignored. Freddy wasn’t who the party leader thought he was. And frankly, he wanted to break out alone as soon as he was capable of doing so.

As for the money, he made some. Most days fluctuated between 200 on the low and 600 dollars on the high end, with few exceptions. Still, he was slightly outearning his spending, and for the time being, that was enough.

Not a single time did he encounter a crisis like the one with the deviant. In fact, he was never attacked by anything at all. But a few times, he spotted people suspiciously loitering not too far from where he was guarding the bags. If he hadn’t been there, it was likely that they would try stealing them.

Judging by the rumors he heard, this sort of thing was relatively common.

The cluttered, dangerous environment of the realm made chasing such thieves difficult, and it made getting away with the crime easier.

Numerous times, he had also witnessed the night suddenly turn to day and the day suddenly turn to night. It was terrifying. When the day turned to night in the middle of a battle, that was enough to put most parties in mortal peril. Gorels didn’t need sight; they mainly relied on their other senses, so to them, it was as if barely anything had changed.

Thankfully, their party had Theodore, a light-affinity arch who could instantly alleviate the problem by using his ability—Scattered Starlight—to throw out numerous floating orbs of light and illuminate the entire battlefield.

While it seemed like it shouldn’t be the case, when the night suddenly turned to day, that wasn’t optimal either. It took a few crucial moments for a human’s vision to get used to the sudden change in brightness, which could be pretty disorienting in the middle of a life-or-death scenario.

Not even a few days into his work with them, he started carrying the machete around and smacked random plants whenever they delved. When they asked him what he was doing, he refused to elaborate. He wasn’t hurting anyone or doing anything of note, really, so they simply let him be, chalking his behavior up to a strange habit.

This was one of many reasons why, as time passed, he grew increasingly distant from the party of six instead of getting closer to them. His weird behavior, Theodore’s persistence, his refusal to show his face, and the gap in power between them that grew more and more obvious as he displayed greater and greater feats of strength fed into a rift that made it clear—it was only a matter of time before they parted ways.

His training at the gym progressed smoothly. While he never fully healed with how little he got to swing the machete around, it was more than enough for him to see consistent progress.

He grew bulkier. His skinny physique grew rapidly as it caught up to where it used to be. Several times, he had to get his equipment adjusted to suit his growing body.

After a while, his Hydraulic Flex finally grew to the peak of stage zero. Rather than rush to upgrade it, he took his time, carefully reading up on abilities and the water affinity to ensure he didn’t make a suboptimal choice.

Flowing Strike, on the other hand, didn’t grow at all. He would need to use it in combat more often to see it improve.

As for his tempering techniques, Abyssal Depths increased to 40% bonus weight, and Puddle of Blood neared the peak of stage zero.

He still hadn’t discovered anything about the mysterious second shell from the perished water affinity.

Surprisingly, Adaptive Water Body didn’t change at all. And he knew why after some reading at the library.

Evolution was something called a grand concept. Vestiges holding such concepts were rare but nothing too exceptional.

Grand concepts only existed as vestiges. They couldn’t grow into remnants. And, as a consequence, any ability upgraded through them… couldn’t grow, either. This wasn’t necessarily a terrible thing, it just meant that the ability did what it did and would always do only that. Abilities upgraded through grand concepts couldn’t be evaluated on a linear power scale as their utility was often miscellaneous. This was the case with Adaptive Water Body, too.

Eventually, after following this schedule for a month, he finally reached the peak of Puddle of Blood.

He upgraded the ability with a vestige of “inner expansion” that he found in the forest while they were resting during one of their delves.

And with that, his Puddle of Blood was upgraded to Pool of Blood.

It was enough. He knew most of the safer areas in the passage by heart at that point. Although he trained daily, his growth had slowed noticeably, and he stagnated.

On that day, as he walked into the hub, he smiled at the slightly disappointed look in Theodore’s eyes as the man said, “Very well. You’ve been the best goddamn helper I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m sure we’ll see you around often enough.” Then, with a smile of his own, he cheekily added, “If you ever decide to take that damn mask off, I’d love to take you out for drinks.”

He chuckled at that. “Maybe one day,” he said noncommittally.

Then, he waved at everyone else, saying his goodbyes, turned around… headed down the stairs…

And started his first-ever solo delve into a passage.

***

Three figures stood at the cavern entrance into the ruins of what had once been called Camp Violet. All of them were dressed in expensive combat uniforms, black with hints of dirt-brown camouflage.

The first was a tall, blonde, bearded man with a concerned expression. He looked into the mouth of the cave with evident fear in his eyes as a mess of feelings wrestled in his heart.

The second was a young man with striking red hair and eyes, with thin lines of crimson making their way down his face. He stood impassive, curiously staring forward.

And the third was a woman, her cerulean hair tied back into a practical ponytail. The serious uniform stood in sharp contrast to what she usually wore, but the relaxed smile still hung on her face nonetheless.

Finally, after waiting so long for the last of the scouts to abandon this place, they received their opportunity.

“Madame,” Nahar offered as he gestured with his right arm. “Let us begin.”

It was time to start their search for Freddy Stern.