Robert Vlaho
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[1% LIFESTEAL] Chapter 101 - Liberation
🕑 Added 2024-07-17 19:20:32 +0000 UTC[QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE]
Quick heads up! The next chapter will probably be the finale of book 2! Stay tuned, folks. :)
Enjoy the chapter.
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Rahal walked into the patriarch’s office—his office. While it was a pale shadow of the throne he had dreamt of his whole life, marred by the clan’s recent setbacks as it was, he still felt a simmering glee that it now… finally… belonged to him. Not his bullheaded brother or naive nephew; no, it was his and his alone.
He sat down on the cold chair of stone and leaned back. It was ridiculously uncomfortable. He cackled to himself. His brother had been quite the hardcore type, and he always wanted the world to know it.
But Rahal was different.
While the patriarch’s image was crucial, he did not want their clan to continue existing in this cold, depressing state. It was too unwelcoming to new recruits, and he knew damn well he’d need to get to recruiting as soon as possible.
What the people wanted was luxury and comfort, not blood-slathered stone walls and disgusting decor.
The days of stubborn pride were over. It was time to rebuild the clan by the foundation and reshape it stone by stone.
He broke himself out of his thoughts and rolled his shoulder. There was no time for daydreaming—a massive pile of unfinished work waited on his desk, and it was time to start chipping away at it. Just as he was about to reach for a paper, a red light ignited above his head, and an alarm started screeching.
He rushed to his feet. That was the intruder alarm. A cold chill ran down Rahal’s spine at the thought. Did some faction decide to take a risk and take them out while they were weak? That would be ridiculous! They still had the empress’s protection!
What kind of suicidal—
“No,” he spat as a scowl set across his brow.
It had to be Nahar.
“That stupid mutt!” Rahal spat as he rushed out of the room.
He retrieved a staff from his storage ring. The grey, ghoulish wood was polished smooth across its length of slightly over a meter, and a large red gem rested atop the staff. While Kraven was temporarily weakened, they had been a powerful faction for a long time. The treasures and weapons they had acquired throughout the years put them a solid step above the average three-star faction.
The staff in his hand increased the potency of his abilities by a startling 16.21%—making it almost too powerful for his soul to handle.
As he rushed down the halls, he shouted commands at anyone who passed by.
Nahar would die that day—but even though his attack was suicidal, he was still an incredibly powerful archhuman. In fact, purely based on his power, he was far more capable than Rahal. But by the time he was taken down, he could cause more damage than the clan could afford to take in these transient times. “That piece of—”
“Patriarch!” a younger clansman with a broken arm came running from the other direction.
“Where is Nahar!?” Rahal spat, glaring death at the poor boy’s eyes.
“It’s not him!”
“What!?” Rahal’s steps slowed as a pang of terror shot down his spine. “Who is attacking us!?”
“It's that man who used to work for Nahar!” the boy shouted. “He is slaughtering our clansmen!”
Rahal stared at the boy for a long moment, consternation crossing his eyes. “Shit…” he muttered.
There was only one way that man could have enough power to do this much damage—he had used a spirit ability to exchange his life for temporary power. If that was the case, their situation was dire. Depending on how much damage that young man did before he was taken out, Nahar would have the opportunity to practically cripple them if he joined the attack.
Rahal could not let that happen. “Where is he?”
The boy quickly answered, and Rahal bolted down the hallway, shouting commands at passersby and gathering a small army of followers behind him.
Within less than a minute, he reached the place the young man had described and saw a scene of carnage.
The bodies of numerous clansmen had been cleaved through, chopped into pieces like vegetables ready to be thrown into a stew. The heavily reinforced walls were severely damaged in a few spots, the hallway floor was drenched in blood up to the ankle, and among the dead, he even spotted a three-star elder.
This made no sense.
A spirit ability couldn’t explain this level of power.
Something else was happening here. Something sinister.
He marched with his men, following the trail of blood until they reached an elevator door. The doors leading into the elevator had been pried open, with clear hand-prints still visible on the disfigured metal
Rahal looked down the shaft and spotted a small bloody footprint landing where the elevator shaft turned to the side. “No…”
Why was that man heading towards their prisoners? Could he possibly…?
He leaped down the shaft, bouncing off the walls skillfully as he reached the turn. As soon as he landed, he saw the distant figure of Mark Afronte as he tore another entrance open with his bare hands and entered the prisoner block.
Rahal was stunned for a long moment. Not because of the impressive feat of strength the boy showed—but because he felt the boy’s power. He wasn’t a two-star. No, the boy was a three-star—nearly at the peak, at that.
He was at the same level of power as himself.
The crowd of people following him stopped as he raised a hand. “Elders, follow after me. You and you,” he said, pointing at a pair of two-star supports with the holy affinity, “you come with us. Everyone else, stay behind and guard the exit.”
They quickly headed into the prisoner block. As he passed through, walking over the corpses of slaughtered guards, his fears were confirmed—the entrance to the hidden compartment was compromised.
They slowed as they heard the sounds of slashing coupled with deep, resonating buzzing sounds. As they walked into the room, they spotted the young man trying to cleave through the protective glass with his sword.
Behind the large glass panel was the chamber where their special prisoners were kept secure. The mysterious man and woman were still restrained and hanging from the ceiling.
With pulsing flickers that flitted through the defensive barrier, Mark’s attacks were repelled, but not entirely; small cuts were accumulating over the glass, and given enough time, he would make it to the other side.
Rahal knew for a fact that the young man could sense their arrival. Yet, he kept slashing away, pretending that they weren’t even there.
“Mr. Afronte,” Rahal greeted him, stepping forward and keeping his voice level. “If you tell me what you’re doing here, I might consider not torturing your family for years before I take their lives.”
The man’s sword stopped. Its tip lowered to the ground as Mark slowly turned around. As soon as he was facing their direction, the two supports inhaled sharply through their teeth when they spotted his eerie, square pupils.
Rahal’s eyes widened briefly, and despite his efforts to remain calm, a thin sheet of perspiration covered his back.
Mark’s mouth morphed into a wicked smile. “Hey there, Rahal. Fancy seeing you here.” He turned around with his whole body and swung the sword over his shoulder. “I take it you won’t let me let these guys out before I kill you?”
Rahal’s eyes narrowed into slits. “And why are you—” Before he could finish his sentence, Mark threw his sword at impossible speed. The tip of the blade pierced through Rahal’s stomach, embedding itself all the way to the guard and just barely avoiding severing his spine.
Before anyone could muster a counterattack, Mark dashed forward at a bizarre speed, pulling his sword out and kicking Rahal in the chin, sending him flying up to the ceiling.
The supports didn’t have time to cast their buffs before their bodies were diced into chunks. The elders rushed to attack the man, but any projectiles they sent his way appeared to swerve around him, almost like magnets being repelled by the same pole. In the next moment, the elders were gone as well.
Rahal got a hold of himself mid-air and used a Blood Burst to send himself flying towards the other end of the room. The massive gash in his stomach hurt like hell, but he ignored it as he raised his staff and fired Blood Bolts at the enemy.
Mark didn’t move to dodge. The projectiles just swerved around his body, being pushed aside like snowflakes. “What!?” Rahal shouted as he panicked and activated all three stars, increasing his output fourfold and launching a massive, high-speed projectile at the young man.
This time, Mark dodged by bending backward. His knees were bent at a 90-degree angle, but he remained standing despite being way off balance.
Before Rahal could process what he was seeing, something even more bizarre happened. Mark started floating. His whole body lifted into the air, and his figure slowly floated towards Rahal.
The young man kept an easy smile on his face as he extracted a cloth from his ring to wipe the blood off his blade. “This stuff is pretty corrosive,” he said. “I’m gonna have to charge you for the damage to my blade.”
Rahal was no fool. He could tell what was happening here. Whatever this young man had done, it had put him at a level of power that he wasn’t qualified to face. With grim determination, he activated his spirit ability. It would cost him a whole star, but in return, it would—
Before he could blink, Mark was standing right in front of him, and for some reason, Rahal’s body was falling to the ground. Once the pain finally reached his mind, he reeled at the sensation of all four of his limbs being severed at once. “Gaargh!” he shouted as his back impacted the ground. “Aaaaah—gggrrraaaah…!” he groaned in pain as he clenched his jaw.
He felt a whole star evaporate from his soul, and power filled his body—but to what end?
Mark grabbed him by the neck and lifted his body, bringing their faces close enough to kiss.
Rahal wanted to fight back. His pride sought any way to rebel, any method he could find that would at least let him survive. But that gaze…
In the square pupils of his killer’s face, he saw an abyss deeper than hell, darker than the void, and more sinister than the very concept of evil.
Within Mark’s eyes…
He saw death itself.
***
Mark stared at the pathetic, groveling form of his greatest enemy. Somewhere far in the back of his mind, he knew there would be consequences for his actions. He was aware of the danger and the risks; he knew that the power he wielded wasn’t free, but he smiled anyway.
There was so much he wanted to say to the man. The amount of anger he wanted to spill out was overflowing. Yet, rather than say anything, he simply pried the patriarch’s jaw open and started pulling his teeth out.
One by one.
He enjoyed watching the man’s willpower flicker like a candle in the wind. Every time those eyes showed defiance, he inflicted punishment. Before long, the man was crying like a pathetic worm, and Mark knew if he removed his hand from the man’s neck, he would hear him plead for his life.
He tightened his grip instead, crushing the man’s windpipe.
“Oops,” he muttered. With that, the patriarch’s eyes were already starting to dim. The fun was over. “Oh well,” he said as he dropped the man to the ground and crushed his head underfoot.
He could do so many wonderful things with his brand new second talent—Force Manipulation. From making his body float off the ground to redirecting enemy attacks to accelerating himself to unbelievable speeds to amplifying the force of every strike—it was a power so perfect he struggled to think of anything he couldn’t do with it.
There was no time to play around, though. He had to hurry.
He quickly dug through the patriarch’s storage ring and found the key he remembered Nahar using to access restricted areas. Before long, he also found the keyhole, and a moment later, he entered the chamber.
There was a disgusting smell in the air.
With a few swift slashes, he freed his targets from their restraints and released them. The two were incredibly thin—most of their muscle tissue had atrophied due to the way they were imprisoned. They were covered in numerous wounds, but it was nothing debilitating. The Kraven had clearly tortured them, but they were spared any heavy injuries, likely as the clan was hoping to make use of them at some point in the future.
Naive bastards.
The man was the first to get up to his feet. “I thank you, young one, for your assistance. We were told you’d come here.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched a bit. “I haven’t moved in quite some time, so you’ll have to give me a few moments to regain my mobility.”
“No problem,” Mark said with a chuckle. “But do hurry if you can.”
The man nodded. “My name is Kaefalge, by the way,” he said. “I apologize for the late introduction.”
“Firrita,” the woman on the floor added. “And… I’d appreciate some help…”
“Sure thing,” Mark said as he helped the woman off the ground. “Oh, and I’m Mark Afronte. Nice to meet you two.”
He helped the two with removing all the smaller restraints, and once done, they plundered the bodies of the people Mark killed. There were some healing salves that helped the two prisoners recover.
On their way out, they visited the changing area for the Kraven militia. It was entirely empty, as most of the militia had already been disbanded. They all donned Kraven militia uniforms to avoid suspicion as much as possible.
Mark’s plans were… open-ended. Frankly, he had no idea what to do next. He had simultaneously committed a pretty major war crime and violated the protection the empress extended over the Kraven clan due to their demotion.
His… “patron” had told him the two he had liberated would know what to do.
So he asked them.
“We must leave this city,” Kaefalge said.
“Well, no shit,” Mark spat. “Of course we do. But where do we go from there?”
“We will navigate through the Great Labyrinthe until we reach a safe harbor.”
Mark’s steps faltered. “Huh?”
“The interspace,” Firrita said. “That’s how they call it here, remember?”
“Ah, yes,” the man said.
Mark stopped. “That’s suicide,” he said.
“Why would that be the case?” the man asked. “If you do not trust us, you can simply go your own way.”
Mark gritted his teeth. He'd be fine if it was just him, but what about his family?
His heart sped up, and he started to regret his choice.
He hadn’t been thinking at all, had he?
“Let’s leave this place first, then we’ll talk further, okay?” Mark suggested.
The man shrugged. “That suits me just fine.”
They tried to look inconspicuous as they moved through the residential area. Their square eyes stood out quite a bit, but nobody had any reason to believe it was anything but a strange fashion statement.
The Kraven's intruder system was entirely internal. They wanted to keep it a secret from the outside world if something like this ever happened precisely so that nobody could capitalize on a moment of vulnerability.
Within a few minutes, they reached his family residence. As soon as he knocked on the door, his father tore them open and shouted, “Where were you—” His words trailed off as he spotted Mark and the two strangers behind him. “What is happening?” he muttered.
“Call Mum and Sarah,” Mark said. “And come with me.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you—”
“It’s a matter of life and death. Call Mum and Sarah immediately.”
His father swallowed and, with a stern glare, reluctantly listened to his son’s request.
Soon enough, the three square-eyed archhumans were being followed by a perplexed trio of civilians, and before long, they made their way over to the exit from the residential area.
Just as they stepped into the lobby, a voice called from the side, “What do we have here…?”
Mark’s steps froze as he recognized the voice.
“He’s powerful,” Kaefalge whispered into Mark’s ear.
“I’m well aware of that,” Mark growled back as he turned around and smiled pleasantly at the man walking toward them. “Hello there, Mr. Maskaart! What can I do for you?”
What the hell is this bastard doing here…? Mark wondered.
He wore a colorful button-up shirt and grey shorts, with clapping sandals marking his every step. Basilisk’s snake-like eyes narrowed into slits as he grinned at them. “Oh, you know, business as usual. I heard your old boss had lost his job, so I was trying to find him and see if we could hash out a deal regarding a certain… issue he may or may not have.”
Mark gritted his teeth, failing to keep his frustration hidden.
Basilisk laughed. “What’s with the hostility? I’m not here to ruin your family’s… picnic.” A sly grin spread across his face. “Say, your eyes look a little different than I remember. And your soul tickles me just a bit harder now.”
“What do you want?” Mark spat, ready to pull his sword out if need be.
“Come on, you know I’m not that kind of guy!” he said as he stepped right before Mark. “I’m just curious about the situation you found yourself in. Just in case you did something like break into the Kraven compound and free two mysterious prisoners that my informants told me the Kraven were hiding deep within their headquarters! Just an example.”
“What do you want?”
Basilisk grinned even wider. “That’s the wrong question to ask. I have a better one for you—what are you willing to give me? If you need my help getting away without finding yourself on the chopping block, now would be the time to ask.”
Mark froze at that. Rather than reject it outright, he prodded, “Depends on what you’ll ask for in return.”
“I think that’s something we could discuss behind closed doors, my boy. Follow me.”
Comments
Beeees!
A literal deal with the devil lol
Brandon Lee Tromm
Cause Freddy got out ? He killed the Clanhead got to keep Bloodshed and was able to start over and grow in Power in secret. I see little sense in Freddy going back just to kill the rest of Kraven. As that would expose him to the other powers that would ask questions or might try to steal bloodshed..
Raganash
Mark is doing the things I expected the actual MC Freddie to do. Why is Freddy not doing shit?
thaughton2
Bruh don't drag your family into this. I swear if the next time we see them they're square pupilled thralls...
ItsAKC
How has Mark achieved pretty much MC level powers? Crazy, I’m looking forward to Freddy kicking ass like this one day
Lyncher98
Tftc
