Robert Vlaho
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[1% LIFESTEAL] Chapter 38 - Here's the Deal
🕑 Added 2023-10-24 10:34:44 +0000 UTCMark woke up with both his arms numb. The curtains in the large, opulent bedroom were pulled over the windows, and the light just barely revealed the warm, soft reasons why. Trapping his left side was a beautiful brunette woman, and lying on the other was a handsome blonde.
“Son of a—!” he whispered under his breath. “Not again…”
Pulling his arms out from under his two naked companions, he got up and went to the toilet.
Going up a star was often accompanied by notable physiological changes that got more drastic the higher up one went. For his second star, he was granted a thick, full beard. And he hadn’t been doing much to keep it in check, even though he’d been keeping his hair cut extra short.
Washing his face, he observed himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought, how often he failed to recognize himself. For a brief moment, he looked at his arm. There, yet another in a long series of scars rested. But whenever he looked at it, it ached far more than any other.
Shaking those thoughts off, he returned to the large bedroom and entered another door on the other side. There, he had a small office. Pulling out a paper from a drawer, he grabbed a fountain pen and started writing.
I’M SO SORRY FOR—
He immediately scribbled over that and threw the paper in the trash.
I HAD FUN LAST NIGHT—
And again.
THANK YOU FOR—
“Gah,” he groaned. Putting a palm to his forehead, he took a deep breath and decided to be honest.
HELLO. I’M MARK, IN CASE I DIDN’T INTRODUCE MYSELF LAST NIGHT. I DON’T REALLY DO THIS SORT OF STUFF OFTEN.
Well, he did, but not because he wanted to.
I JUST WANTED TO SAY I PROBABLY HAD FUN, BUT I DON’T REMEMBER MUCH. I’VE LEFT THE APARTMENT, AND I’M GOING TO BE OUT ALL DAY. YOU DON’T NEED TO RUSH TO GET OUT. IF YOU WANT, YOU CAN ORDER A DRINK OR BREAKFAST ON THE TABLET NEXT TO THE FRIDGE.
SEE YOU—
He immediately scratched that last part.
YOU SHOULD GET OUT BY—
And again.
“You know what, fuck it,” he gave up. They’d probably leave by the time he was back anyway. Hopefully.
Moving as quietly as he could to hopefully avoid waking the girls up, he put his uniform on. A black accented by red, military-style suit was on his body in minutes, and the cap with the Kraven insignia on it was on his head.
It’s been a while since he got his job working as a part of their militia.
He left the apartment and strolled down the long hallway. Eventually, he reached a door.
After knocking and waiting for a while, his father opened it. “Hey! Come on in. Your mother just made breakfast.”
So he did. His mother appeared cheerful and pleased. His father was as happy to see him as always. Sarah, his sister, was already attending her lessons. None of them knew what he’d done to get their family this privilege. And they never would.
As he ate his mother’s food, his father asked, “Any updates on the academy?”
“The main building has already been constructed,” Mark said. “But they’re planning a lot of specialized equipment and rooms. Ethertech is evolving rapidly with all the new resources pouring in, so they must account for any new breakthroughs if they don’t want to become outdated too fast.”
“I see, I see,” his father said. “So, how’s work?”
Mark frowned. “Good,” he said. “There have been some concerning sightings recently, but nothing that Empress Kaiya can’t handle if worse comes to worst,” after another moment, he added, “But yeah. Until we have more five-stars around, establishing more permanent settlements is just not viable.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed,” his mother warned. “I’ve heard some scary stories, you know.”
“Don’t worry, mom,” he comforted her.
‘As long as I work beside that monster, I’ll be fine,’ he added internally.
After finishing his meal, he said goodbye to his parents, left, and strode down the extensive maze of hallways. Eventually, he reached an elevator and stepped inside. He was on the thirty-seventh floor, so he could see the whole city through the glass walls.
A massive dome surrounded the entirety of Starhold. Its web-like, metallic reinforcements, partially concealed behind a few larger floating islands, held the reinforced glass dome solid and stable. The half-sphere kept flying creatures out and protected the settlement from the harsh, rapidly changing weather. Numerous buildings were in construction as far as the eye could see, and every day he stepped in here, he spotted a few newly finished ones and a few freshly started ones.
This was the only permanent settlement that had been established on Faralethal. And he was among the pioneers settling it. With the incredible amount of resources humanity was extracting in this passage realm, which had been reclassified as a D-class realm, Starhold had been experiencing explosive economic growth, and ethertech grew more advanced by the day.
Speaking of ethertech, his pocket started vibrating. He pulled the portable long-distance etherwave communication and computing device, or as they called it in honor of the old earth, the phone, out of his pocket and held his finger on the giant red button for a second.
“Yo, Mark!” a voice sounded.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Nahar,” Mark answered.
“Of course you will,” the man teased with a laugh. “Not even two beauties like that can keep you—” Before the voice could finish the sentence, Mark ended the call, shaking his head.
Upon reaching the bottom floor, he stepped to a second elevator, pressed a finger to a scanner, and walked inside, this time going to the underground. Less than a minute of descent later, he left and entered the Kraven militia headquarters.
The walls were plain grey, and the halls were full of men and women clothed in uniforms similar to his own. They were heading to the morning training, one that he, as a special independent operative, wasn’t forced to attend. He still participated whenever he could, but he was more often than not busy with other matters, as well as personal training.
This was no matter of official rank. Although many envied Mark's privileges among the troops, unfortunately, he received them by being friends with…
In the communications center, surrounded by men and women observing the numerous screens that flashed important information, a man sat on a couch with seven empty bottles of fine spirit right on the table before him.
… this man.
He wore the Kraven core family member uniform, had those creepy red lines all over his face, as well as red hair, and wore… sunglasses… despite it being day and them being underground.
“Mark!” He greeted him. “Did you have fun last night?”
“I don’t even remember last night,” Mark responded shyly, glancing at some of the officers eyeing him with cheeky smiles.
Nahar clicked his tongue. “You damn lightweight.”
“Anyway,” Mark rushed to change the subject. “I believe we have an important mission today.”
“No, we don’t, Marky-moo,” he denied. “We have a chore.”
Mark heavily disagreed with that statement. They were to join the stampede suppression unit today. On a daily basis, Starhold was swarmed by hordes of monsters looking to break through the barrier. Frontline work was dangerous, bloody, and tiring.
But he supposed it was no surprise that anything related to blood would feel like a chore to the young master.
Suddenly, Nahar’s phone rang loudly. He took his sweet time picking it up once he saw who it was from. Answering the phone, he put it to his ears and responded with the occasional “Uh-huh” and “Will do, pops!”
Putting the phone down, he groaned.
“What is it?” Mark asked.
“Looks like you’re on your own today, Mark. Old man Janny just called me,” he said as he got up and stretched. “Core family members are to return to the main base…
“Apparently, he will be bringing some good news soon.”
***
There were two types of matches in the Wastes, and depending on what the fighters agreed upon, it was either one or the other.
The first type was tournament-style combat. There was a circular border; any fighter who left that border or was thrown out was disqualified. The fights were judged, and if someone was knocked down, they’d be given the time to get up—if they didn’t, they were out. There was also a point system, and the judge could, at their discretion, end the match or call a break whenever they deemed fit.
The second type was different—and heavily restricted. The staff only permitted it if both fighters had the credit to afford extensive treatment and had a defensive tempering technique. This was because the second type was deathmatch-style combat.
It didn’t go until death—not often.
But there was no barrier one could get kicked out of. There was no grace if one was knocked to the ground. It was until surrender, unconsciousness, or death.
As the announcer finally called today’s match as being of the second type, the crowd exploded with excitement.
Freddy’s opponent—an absolute giant of a man—stood confident. Given that his monicker was ‘Skull Crusher,’ this probably wasn’t his first rodeo.
The stands echoed with his name, which soon turned into a ‘crush his skull!’ chant that Freddy wasn’t a big fan of for some mysterious reason.
The massive man had limbs as thick as tree trunks and definitely weighed more than Freddy did, even with Abyssal Depths. His skin was the color of bronze, and his face was surprisingly handsome. The man had long hair, the type that only those who had been a part of the expedition for a while did.
Rather than allow himself to panic, Freddy took deep breaths to calm himself. The announcer was still hyping the fight, so he still had a few dozen seconds until it was go time.
Every muscle in his body screamed with energy, blood pumped through his veins with an audible thudding in his ears, and his nerves were stretched so thin that a light breeze could trigger a premature jump at the man.
His opponent was large, which made him a big target. If he had a defensive tempering technique, he probably wasn’t too big on speed, especially not given his height. Freddy didn’t have to fear harm for numerous reasons, so he decreed that—
“Match start!” the announcer screamed, and the giant man rushed forward.
‘Shit!’ Freddy’s mind whirled. Despite being in the middle of preparing himself, the start of the fight still caught him unprepared, and now, Skull Crusher was charging at him with the momentum of a bull aimed at a red cloth.
No matter, he thought, as he lowered his stance and prepared Hydraulic Flex. His leg muscles inflated like balloons for a fraction of a second, and he was launched forward with an explosive twang like that of a ballista string, swinging a clumsy but adequate Flowing Strike.
The man didn’t expect such a fast dash from Freddy, so he couldn’t muster a solid guard before—
Freddy’s fist landed on Skull Crusher’s chest with a crackling sound of ribs being crushed into powder, and as his stage one Flowing Strike pushed the water through Freddy’s arms, so did it transfer the immense momentum of the human cannonball behind it.
It was as if the massive human weighed less than a balloon someone slapped out of the air; his body launched backward, bouncing off the ground with a bloody skitter and slamming back first into the far wall of the arena, right under the stands, leaving the stone cracked, the man’s mouth bleeding liberally, and the crowd—silent.
“I… Ugh— I surrender,” Skull Crusher barely mustered as his eyes rolled back into his skull, and he went limp.
Freddy landed back on the ground in a crouch and got up, bewildered. But it didn’t last long. A fat, unrestrained grin spread over his face as he glanced at the silent stands.
“Well?” he asked, directing his animalistic rush at the spectators. “Anyone else wants to have a go?”
He shouldn’t be doing this. He should turn around and get out of here.
“Well!?” he asked in a yell.
One of the spectators tried booing him, likely expecting others to join. Nobody did. The bald man stood alone, Freddy staring at him directly, those sitting beside him inching away.
This had just done far more than prove he wasn’t to be messed with. He had greatly underestimated himself.
“I asked does anyone else want to have a go? Come on, people, we don’t have all day!”
How will the staff react? Did he ingratiate himself enough? No, they would undoubtedly put him in the death squad.
“No one?” As he asked the stand yet again, the rush was already starting to wear off. And the realization that he had made another mistake was beginning to sink in. “Come on, you cowards! I know at least three of you here want a rematch; how about it?”
What should he do now? Should he just go along with it?
The announcer approached him and patted his shoulder, whispering, “Get out of the ring, dude, you’ve proven your point.”
He hadn’t proven shit.
But, with a quick nod, he got out anyway. Perhaps this was for the best. He didn’t really know what joining the death squads entailed. Were they even real? What if the staff just offed anyone who might be dangerous?
His gaze traveled to the stands, and he immediately spotted the silver-haired man. Peter looked positively ecstatic, flashing double thumbs up with a giant smile. What did that smile mean? Raising a hand in a ‘wait for me’ motion, Peter got up and pushed through the stands.
Freddy entered the cave, put his clothes on, and left the Wastes quietly.
In a small nook, he spotted the silver-haired man waving at him to walk over to the hiding spot.
“Dude, that was epic!” he scream-whispered at Freddy. “I’m certain that ack—!” the man choked as Freddy gripped his throat and, with a swing, slammed the man’s back against the cave wall. “Why… are… you…?” he choked out.
“You are a fucking rat, aren’t you!?” Freddy asked as he got up in the man’s face. “A staff member? This is what you wanted, right?”
“I… Please…!” the man begged, and Freddy loosened the grip ever-so-slightly, just enough for the man to speak, “I swear I didn’t mean anything bad by it!”
“Then what did you mean!? Tell me what you fucking want!”
“I… I… I just wa–wanted to help you. You—you have a master, right? It’ll be m–much easier to–to save you if yo–you’re re-recruited as a fighter, they go closer to Starhold.”
Freddy blinked at the man. Then he broke out into manic laughter, “You… You fucking moron!” But it was unfair to attack him. Although it was definitely for selfish reasons, this person wanted to help.
But… wait… This man believed that Freddy had a master.
Letting the man go and allowing him to drop to the ground, Freddy crouched beside him and whispered, “You’re right. I’m actually Madam Morleppe’s disciple.”
The man’s eyes shot wide open for a moment, and he glanced at him before turning his gaze away, “Really?” he asked. “She takes disciples?”
“Long story,” Freddy said dismissively. “It’s really for the purposes of her talk show, but it's easier to just call it a discipleship,” then, in a more severe tone, Freddy continued. “Just the fact that you know this makes you an enemy of the Kraven clan. Are you aware of that?”
The man reluctantly nodded his head.
“Good,” Freddy confirmed with a grin. “This is how it will be—
“Help me find a way to escape this expedition, Peter,” Freddy offered. “And I will land you a favor from Madam herself. How’s that sound?”
Comments
Beeees!
Real exciting chapter, all the pieces of his escape are starting to fall togethor. I'm gonna guess mark haunted by what he did and his guilt will drive him to help Freddy in any way he can.
Octaeon
Anyways, cool chapter! Also, I'm very conflicted about Mark, which is probably the point. Still, I'm going to be very surprised if Mark survives Freddy's revenge. After all, it was because Mark snitched that Freddy was tortured for a year straight and sold into slavery. If Freddy ever learns about that (and I don't know how he wouldn't be able to - Mark's new position with the Kraven clan is a result of him doing the clan a huge favour by snitching on Freddy/Bloodshed, and finding that out wouldn't be very difficult), Mark is *toast*.
Octaeon
Wasn't Peter a 2 star arch? Or am I thinking of another character? Because there is no way Freddy, a 0 star (or 1 star? The releases are sporadic enough that I can't remember the details) would be able to overpower a 2 star like that. He MIGHT be able to kill a 2 star if he went all out and used every dirty trick in the book, but simply overpower one? No way.
