1% Lifesteal

The thing spoke again, "You bastard child! How dare you do that to me!?"

"What the—"

As his mind finally caught up with the reality of the situation, the headgear dropped out of his hands with a metallic clang, and his mouth hung wide open. "Holy…" He walked forward, carefully stepping off his bed. "Holy shit!" He grabbed the garbage can, jumping back again at the sight of his bloody clothes, and as he spotted the green face on the floor, he stared at it, utterly dumbfounded.

"What are you staring at, you idiot!?" the thing asked him. "If I had saliva glands, I'd spit on your feet!"

His face gradually morphed into a shaky grin, and with a tearful laugh, he joyfully reached for the green face, lifting it into the air as if it were a holy object. "I can't believe it!" He laughed again, tears running down his face. "Holy shit, I can't believe it! It's a prime vestige!"

He immediately slapped his mouth shut. Slithering over to his bed, he covered his head with his sheets and shushed the green ball, listening for any sounds in the hallway.

Nobody was there.

"I swear, you're a lunatic!" the ball said in a voice far louder than he wanted it to.

So he yet again shushed it aggressively. "Shhhhhh! Be quiet, please! If someone finds out, they might try to steal you!"

"As if you'd care!" it said. "I'm sure you watch men plow your wife's fields every day!"

"Men what!?" he scream-whispered to the odd ball. "I'm not married!"

"Ha! Figures."

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. His heart roared in his chest, and he struggled to remember what to do. As far as he knew, if asked a question, primes had to speak if they had the answer.

So ask a question he would. "Tell me, now…" Yet he couldn't muster the words. This was a big deal. Depending on the answer, his entire future would change.

However, he had to ask. Rather than dwell on it, he forced himself to speak. "Tell me…" he said with a lick that desperately tried rehydrating his parched lips. His vision blurred, and his stomach felt like it was dropping into an endless pit, reaching deeper by the second as he finished his question, "What power do you hold?"

It stared at him for a mere moment. Then, it answered his question. "Super farmer!"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If you embrace me into your soul, you will become a master farmer! All the crops you plant shall have a greater yield, and you may even buy a wife with the produce! So you can watch other men take her away from you!" it said, and then it returned to its loud yells, curses, and blabbering.

Disbelief radiated from him. "You're kidding, right?" But before the green face could even answer, he knew the truth.

His hands tremored, his eyes teared up—

"No." Blinking the tears away, he nearly bit himself in anger at his stupidity. By the mere virtue of being a prime vestige, this object was worth more than all his savings and possessions combined, even with a non-combat talent.

Hiding the ball beneath his blankets as he got up, he walked to his clothes basket and donned his only set of casual clothing. He was still dirty, and his clothes smelled of sweat, but this was no time to be concerned about that.

Returning to his bed, he grabbed the prime, urging it to be quiet, but it simply refused to stop screaming.

"All right. If that's how you want to play," he said as he grabbed his sheets and wrapped it up until its screams were reduced to a faint whisper.

He didn't dare leave the thing in his apartment, yet couldn't gather up the courage to take it out either. He moved the chest still barricading his door, carefully cracked the entrance open, and peered into the hallway.

Just barely in sight, the clock showed it was already early afternoon.

That was good news. It meant few people would be walking around inside the building, and the toilet was likely empty. Although his looks were the last thing on his mind, judging by how dirty he felt, he probably didn't look all that civilized.

At the very least, he should look presentable.

The chest shot open, and he threw things out until he made enough space to fit his balled-up sheets. After stuffing them inside and locking the chest, he stepped out into the hallway.

The moment he left, a woman almost bumped into him, and she screamed as she violently jumped back, nearly giving him a heart attack. After recovering from her shock, she gave him a strange look, and he raised an eyebrow as she quickly walked past him. Ignoring the woman, he rushed to the bathroom.

"Jesus!" The mirror in the toilet instantly justified the woman's reaction. His hair was an absolute mess, and his face still had blood splatters, although they had been reduced to brown stains. Quickly rinsing his face and wetting his hair to comb it into shape, he made himself look at least somewhat presentable, although he still smelled like crap.

The sound of running water reminded him that he was brutally thirsty, and he leaned beneath the faucet, pouring the water straight into his mouth. Once done, he prepared to leave.

His hand firmly gripped the bathroom door handle, but he hesitated. The rancid smell of his body was apparent, even to himself, and where he was heading, it was best he avoided being thrown out for something so petty. So he swallowed his impatience and forced himself to undress and shower.

Once out, he didn't even bother checking whether the towel was clean as he swiftly dried himself, put his clothes on, and rushed out. Back in his apartment, he unlocked the chest and picked up the pile of sheets.

Within seconds, he was out of his apartment, down the stairs, and on the streets. When he was out, he slowed down a bit but still maintained a hasty pace.

Nobody even glanced at him.

But the vestige could still be heard from up close, and as three young men walked past him, one of them turned around. "Yo, did y'all just hear screaming?"

He maintained the same pace, and within moments, the men lost interest, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

Soon enough, he stepped into the twenty-third district and marched onward. People were already gathering in the cafes, and he overheard several conversations about the break that happened yesterday.

A slight pang of anxiety struck him as he remembered the gruesome event, but it didn't take much for him to push it down.

Something, something, life went on, something—who gives a crap about that!? He was carrying a damn prime vestige in his arms—the dream of countless people, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become an archhuman! If he, no, once he ascended, it likely wouldn't be the only time he witnessed something of the sort.

As he saw the massive, colorful buildings of the 25th district appear from between the plain construction of the twenty-third, the anxious thoughts of yesterday's event were quickly pushed aside. He kept his eyes on the prize, and after a few more minutes of walking, he appeared before the gates. It was blocked, and there was a guard outside.

His steps slowed, and he bit his lip. "Oh, come the fuck…!"

How had he forgotten about this!? There was no way they would let him inside!

Or… wait. Didn't the prime count as justification that he had business inside? But showing it wasn't something he was enthusiastic about. Why did they put these damn fences up to begin with?

Anyone who could step foot onto a rich arch's private property without dying instantly wouldn't be stopped by a gate like this. Hell, Freddy had witnessed a man jump the fence, and the guard had ignored him. So why? Was this just a cruel flex on them lowly mortals?

He swallowed the bitter feelings and stepped up to the gatekeeper.

"Please provide verification or reason for entry," the suited, bald man recited.

Every cell in his body protested against unwrapping the sheets, but he pushed through the reluctance and peeled the layers open, revealing the screaming green ball inside.

"Put me in there again, and I will skin your ass with my teeth!" it screamed, eyes bulging.

Everyone nearby instantly turned at the commotion, and the gatekeeper simply nodded, moving away so he could pass.

"Was that guy carrying a prime?" someone asked.

"Lucky bastard," another commented.

He ignored the strangers and walked into the district, wrapping the prime back up.

Huh… he mused. It really was that easy.

Vowing to fight injustice at some point in the future when he was unimaginably wealthy and powerful, he stepped past the man and walked into the 25th district.

He knew where to go, and with every step he took closer to his destination, his heartbeat sped up just a bit.

The 25th district often appeared barren, even if he knew damn well that that wasn't the case. It was just that the sky bridges connecting the floating structures and the underground transport system were considerably more popular forms of transit for the residents. And he wasn't even privileged enough to see who was using them.

Yet, the closer he got to his target, the more people seemingly popped out of nowhere, and the population of obviously, and sometimes, obnoxiously wealthy individuals walking the streets sharply increased.

Even among archhumans, there were higher and lower classes. While power wasn't strictly tied to this, the number of stars in one's soul was the primary way this ranking was determined. Starting from a single star, archhumans were not much different from regular humans. But from the second onward, there were visible changes that made them clearly stand out.

Unusual physiological traits, like unnatural hair and eye color, superhuman beauty, pronounced height or physical size, and most noticeably—the aura. Those of the second star onward gave off a faint feeling of oppression to those below them. They could hold it back, too, but… nobody here cared to do that.

Ragged breathing and shaky steps, nausea, dizziness, and intense anxiety accompanied his every step. The way forward felt like he was walking barefoot up a steep mountain covered in thorns and broken glass. But as time passed, he got used to it.

Eventually, the massive, pearly white Archhumanity's Trading Association building appeared before him. He took measured steps to get closer. A large clearing, paved in marble, spread before the building, and dozens of inscribed golden orbs floated around ten feet or so off the ground.

A long set of stairs led up to the entrance, and the only thing stopping the many people who were walking around from forming a crowd was the sheer size of the courtyard.

Anxiously glancing at the ball of sheets, he quickly realized that he should get rid of them. Nobody would dare steal here, but he may be thrown out if he walked inside carrying something like this.

With some hesitation, he pulled the still-screaming vestige out and dropped the sheets into a nearby garbage can. It was rather sad watching them go.

The prime vestige was still screaming its figurative lungs out, and he couldn't muster the bravery to walk into the building with something so attention-grabbing. Several people dressed in clothing, likely worth more than his life, glanced his way, making him wince at their cold gazes.

He squeezed the little green ball and repeatedly told it to calm down, without much success. Finally, he snapped. "Will you just shut the fuck—"

"Sir?" a deep, male voice sounded.

He jumped and turned around, facing a formally dressed older gentleman, one that heavily reminded him of a butler. "Huh? I mean, uh, hello, hi, how are you? I mean, uh, who are you? No, I—"

The man chuckled and continued, "I apologize for the scare. I'm an ATA employee," he said as he pulled a small glass box out of nowhere.

Freddy stared at it in consternation. "What's that?" he asked cautiously before remembering to add, "If you don't mind telling me… Sir."

"This insulating box is used to restrain rowdy primes," he explained.

"No offense, and I do mean this with all due respect, but"—he skeptically glanced at the glass box—"how do I know that's what you claim it is?"

"You can relax, sir." The man pointed at a floating golden orb hovering slightly to their right. "I assure you, if anyone attempted theft on the association's grounds, they wouldn't even get away with their lives, let alone your possessions."

He chuckled awkwardly at the ominous assurance but gratefully grabbed the glass box, thanking the man for the help. After putting the prime vestige inside and closing the contraption, he realized he could still hear the thing screaming at nearly full volume.

Confusion set in. The man reached to pull a small hatch down, which immediately cut the sound off.

He winced at his ignorance and nodded at the man in gratitude. "Thank you, kind sir," he thanked the man. "Uh, I guess I will be on my way…?"

"Enjoy your stay, sir," the man said with a smile.

He started walking away.

"And please," the ominous butler added, "do not forget to return the box."

Parting with the man after those vaguely threatening words, he walked into the building, his heart beating out of his chest.

Three steps up, and his abs and legs were already reminding him of yesterday's events. Enduring the pain, he walked up, and with every step he took and every fancy individual he passed, he felt more shame at his ragged clothing and low-class demeanor.

Eventually, he walked the last step and went through the golden gates that led into the building.

"Wow…"

The marble highlighted the warm ambient lighting perfectly, and the dark wood subdued the environment, creating a stark yet appealing contrast between haughty opulence and humble but classy wood. Numerous paintings lined the walls, beautiful chandeliers hung from above, and flickering, floating balls of fluffy, blue smoke fashioned a faux sky across the ceiling.

Doing his best to avoid looking like a hick, he walked forward, confidently holding the box, even proudly presenting it.

However, when he realized that everyone here carried something of value, commonly more so than his singular prime vestige, he put the box down, holding it casually as if it were a bag of groceries.

As he walked forward, he slowed down around the center of the room. He had something of a problem. "Where the hell am I supposed to go?" he whispered into his chin.

Countless people were walking about, leaving and entering dozens of doors lining the wall on the other side of the entrance. There was nothing else anywhere to be seen—no reception desk, no anyone that appeared to be an employee, no nothing.

Subtly peeking into some of the doors, he realized that inside them, yet again, the rooms were bigger on the inside.

Rich bastards sure have a fetish for space dilation.

Casually striding closer to the entrances, he realized no signs were on or above them. He could spot people walking around, but the crowd pushing in and out made it difficult to tell what was happening. A big part of him wanted to choose randomly and check what was inside, but the rest of him was worried he would accidentally walk in somewhere he wasn't invited.

So he strode along, passing all the doors, surreptitiously peeking into the rooms, and eventually, he ran out of wall to scout. A convenient marble bench met him at the end of his journey, and he walked over to it.

Just as he prepared to sit, a woman practically materialized out of nowhere. "Sir, you're not allowed to sit there," she declared, pointing at the sign that stated the same thing right above his head.

His back shot upright instantly. "Sorry, I am so sorry," he apologized. "I did not see that there, oh man."

The woman nodded at him and turned to leave, but he grabbed the chance to get some information. "Hey, uhm…" he called.

She turned around with a blank expression.

He hurried to explain himself. "I will be honest with you. I'm completely clueless about where to go. Do you mind pointing me in a direction?"

The woman smiled pleasantly and pointed at the wall with the unmarked entrances. "The doors." With that, she turned around and left.

…

Well… thanks for nothing, I guess.

He took a deep breath and decided to wing it. The first door from the left it was. The moment he walked through, he spotted a line of over ten receptionists to his left and more doors along all the other walls in the room.

Eventually, he made his way over to a male receptionist. "Hello!" he greeted the man. "I am here to either sell or trade a prime vestige."

The man pointed behind him, over to the wall to his right. "Doors 14 to 37."

He nodded and walked over. He quickly glanced at the other doors, observing what appeared to be some form of hierarchy. Every door from ten to one grew increasingly fancier, and one looked like the entrance to some emperor's bedroom.

However, those weren't his concern, and he turned back to the ones he was pointed to. The doors had a light above them; some were red, and others were green. Although he immediately assumed that green meant free and red meant occupied, he still asked a random passerby to make sure. The woman he asked stared at him like he was brain-dead. Still, she confirmed it.

He took a deep breath and summarily walked into the first room with a green light above it.

The instant he opened the door, a thick cloud of cigarette smoke, not unpleasant in smell, struck him, and he spotted a man sitting on a luxurious leather chair. The trader looked ageless, with sharp features and a scruffy beard on his face.

He took a massive Cuban cigar out of his mouth, flicked the ash off into an ashtray, and then spoke in a rough, deep voice. "Sit down, kid."

Without hesitation, he walked forward and sat in the shockingly comfortable chair.

The man pointed at the glass box and gestured to him to hand it over.

Rather than immediately give him the box, he clarified, "I'm here to sell or trade my vestige."

The man blinked slowly. "No shit!" he yelled sarcastically. "Give me the damn thing so I can see what it does!"

He reluctantly relinquished the glass container, and the smoker immediately opened it.

"You bastards can lick my crack clean!" its resident spewed.

"Oh, shut up, you whiny thing. What's your talent?" he asked, blowing a large puff of smoke while waiting for the answer.

"Farming! Best farming! Supreme farming! Your crops do better!"

The man looked at the vestige for a few seconds, then at him as if waiting for something.

He seemed to realize there was nothing else to say, so he continued, "Aight." The man scoffed as he locked the box again, then turned to his client, who stared at the man expectantly for a few seconds.

The man stared back and frowned. "So, which will it be? Trade or sell?"

"Uh, I… It's whatever, no, I mean, it's uhm—"

"Stop yapping, kid, I don't have all day."

"I-I mean, it's not whatever," he said as he rushed to collect himself, "but I am looking to get another prime regardless, so if you have any, I'd love to do that, yes."

The trader scowled. "So you wanna trade?"

"Uh, yes, I do want to do that, yes."

"Whaddaya want?"

"I… I didn't think of that, but something combat-oriented, sir…"

"Lovely." The man bent over to check something in a drawer. "How 'bout I throw a few ideas at you, and you take a look?"

"That—uhm…" he pondered. "That… suits me just fine."

The man nodded and pulled a massive box out of the drawer.

He pulled one of the colorful balls out—a gray, three-eyed vestige that spoke in a depressed tone, "Hello, you guys…"

"What does that one do?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me?" the man said, pushing the gray ball at his face. "Ask it."

"Uh… What do you do?"

"Nothing much, really," it answered his question. "I spend my days in boredom."

"No, I mean," he said as he rushed to correct himself. "What power do you hold?"

"A rat tail. A tail, like that of a rat… I know, not really cool…"

His stomach sank. "Uhm…" He glanced at the man. "Sorry if this seems rude, but not even the prime itself thinks the talent is all that good."

"And your vestige is rather enthusiastic," the man said with a sly smile. "Not much of an opinion, now, is it?"

"Fair enough, but this is still… If you plan to offer me stuff like this, I'd prefer to keep my own." He looked at the man, this time with a lot less trepidation.

It was clear that this man considered him a sucker, and it wasn't a surprise why. As soon as he calmed down and thought about it, he realized he didn't have to rush to sell it immediately.

The man put the ball away and pulled out another, but as Freddy got off the chair and started walking out of the room, the man spoke, "Kid, wait a minute, where are you goin'? That was only the first offer."

"I've…" he started with a half-turn. "I will go get the vestige appraised first."

The man blankly stared at him for a moment, and then he burst out laughing, coughing his lungs out.

He was taken aback. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Kid, do you have any damn idea how expensive proper appraisals are?" the trader asked him and then turned serious. "At the lowest, you'll pay the full value of a cheap prime for one, and without the proper contacts, you will wait as long as six months to get it."

Hesitating, he turned around and looked at the man seriously. "I know it must be funny to you, sir, but with all due respect, I would like you to take this seriously."

"What the hell do you mean, brat?"

That made him hesitate again, but something boiled over as he raised his tone a bit above what he wanted to. "Rat tail!? Seriously!?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Yes, I do," the man said, smiling smugly. "And your idiotic behavior doesn't convince me otherwise."

That sent a chill down his spine as he realized who he had been yelling at. "I'm—I'm sorry, sir…"

"Bah!" he spat, frowning. "You were almost manly, kid. Don't ruin it by pussying out!"

"I… What?"

"Sit the fuck down again."

Despite quite a bit of hesitation, he eventually forced himself to walk back to the chair, where he sat down.

The man sighed and gave him a long, hard look. "Tell me, were you involved with the break last night?"

Freddy's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I don't know," the man mused sarcastically. "A poor clueless kid comes in with a prime, acting like a cautious, beaten dog the day after it happened. That's just a coincidence, no?" the man asked rhetorically, shaking his head. "You do know that encounters with monsters can significantly increase the odds of manifesting a prime, right?" the man asked.

He knew that was a thing but had never heard specific numbers. It definitely wasn't guaranteed, however. If it were, bringing mortals to fight weaker monsters and generating infinite primes would be trivial to some… less human-rights-oriented individuals.

The trader squinted at him. "Also, I'm not sure how aware of it you are, but you're acting a bit… uh…" Rather than finishing the sentence, the man twirled a finger next to his head and whistled.

Freddy winced at that.

The man sighed. "Have you seen a shrink yet?"

"No, I haven't, sir."

"You shouldn't."

"What?"

"You shouldn't do it. Fuck 'em."

"Well, I mean, I can't afford one anyway… but I…" He hesitated. "If I, somehow, suddenly could afford one, why shouldn't I go?"

The man leaned over the desk, pulling the cigarette out and putting it into an ashtray. "Let me ask you something. Did you see anyone die?"

He winced a bit, recalling several fresh corpses so readily that, for a moment, he felt as if he were right back when he first saw them. "Yes… sir."

"Funny that, innit," he said as he leaned back. "Didn't you ask me for a combat-oriented power?"

"What are you trying to say?" he responded with a bit more edge to his voice than he thought there would be.

The man grinned widely in turn. "Go to a shrink. You know what they'll tell you?" The man leaned closer. "They'll tell you that you should feel bad and sad and cry it out. That it's a-okay to whimper like a bitch and avoid conflict for the rest of your life," he said with a scoff. "And you're gonna fucking believe it." The trader leaned back. "Screw that. You made the right choice. Man the fuck up and get ready to see more."

Those words left him stumped. That wasn't why he had chosen to go with a combat-oriented talent. He just wanted to be independent, to be free. With a farming talent, he'd be a farmer. Forever. Until the day he died. Perhaps he could be his own boss one day, sure, but if someone wanted to forcefully extract a few favors from him, he'd be powerless to defend himself.

Screw that.

His lifelong dream had always been to become an archhuman. Because he wanted to have the power to live on his own terms—and not kiss the bottom of someone's shoe.

Thoughts whirled in his head, but before he could respond, the man pointed at the glass box holding his prime again. "You realize we haven't even asked your thing what its affinities are, right?"

"I'm sorry?" he asked dumbly. "Wait, it can tell you that!?"

The man sighed and slumped a bit. "Boy, you should at least try to hide it if you're that clueless."

Yet again, before he could respond, the man grabbed the glass box out of his hands and opened it again, releasing the screaming green ball. "What affinities do you have?"

Once it finally stopped hollering, it answered, "Earth, naturally! And water, naturally! And nature, naturally! Naturally," it said, promptly returning to screaming again.

The man whistled, locked the prime back up, and sank into his chair. "Well, I'll be damned. Three affinities. That's a rare find."

Those words sounded like money, but rather than rejoice, he was offended. "So you really were trying to scam me earlier!"

"Damn straight!" the man declared unapologetically, slamming an open palm on the table. "I'm here to earn money, boy, not do charity." And then, with a smile, he continued, "I'll be honest with you, kid. In this business, being the first trader people like you talk to effectively means you're either getting everything or aren't getting shit. You can tell why, no?"

Indeed. He wanted to get up and leave to get a second opinion.

"So here's how it'll be," the trader said as he adopted a more formal tone. "This is decent. It does come with the downside of having a highly restrictive non-combat talent, which will impact the price considerably. But! Fighting isn't for everyone, and a triple-affinity is very desirable."

"And that means…?"

"If it were a combat talent, you'd be rich," he clarified. "But it ain't, so you aren't. Still, it's good stuff."

"I might want to hear a second opinion on that."

The man frowned and waved a hand. "Go then, get scammed somewhere else. You won't get a better deal anywhere you go. How about this? I'll give you a special offer." The man straightened his back, shedding the snark and switching to pure business. "If, and only if, you sell me this prime right now, I will offer you three things!"

The trader raised three fingers. "First, I will give you a prime of decent value, and I will give you the one I believe is best-suited for you. Second, I will provide you with twenty-five thousand dollars in cash. And third, I will pay the consulting fee in your stead and recommend you for an immediate appointment, allowing you to skip days, or even weeks, of waiting."

He wanted to know what prime he would be offered and what consulting meant, but there was a more important thing to discuss first. "Fifty thousand dollars."

With a grin, the man retorted. "Twenty-six."

"Come on, that's too small an increase. I'm sticking with fifty."

"Sticking it up your ass, hopefully. I ain't taking that," the man refused.

"Fine… You know we will meet at forty, so let's skip straight to it."

The man smirked. "Thirty is the most I can give you."

With a somewhat fake frown, mostly there to conceal a grin, Freddy agreed, "Sold. Well, not on the whole deal, but I'm happy with the amount."

The man scoffed and shook his head. "So, the prime…"

"Can I just ask what you mean by consulting?"

"A guy will look at the prime I give you and advise you on handling the power or approaching your growth at first."

"Ah… I see." That sounded pretty good. He didn't know whether this was a good deal, but that was precisely the point. He didn't know anything. In every way, he was oblivious about ascending and what he should do. And worst of all, he had no real way to find out. At least not for free.

Everyone would try to scam him, just as the man had said, but at least he would get some money here, and he was pretty aware of its value. And on top of that, he would get some information, which he needed more than anything.

Rather than open the box on the table, the man got up and walked to a seemingly blank wall. He tapped random empty spots, and an outline appeared, soon revealing itself as a seam to a drawer that slid open. The man pulled an object out, bringing it to the table.

Freddy swallowed.

It was another box, but rather than being transparent, it was entirely black. With one finger on the hatch, the man opened the box and pulled out a red prime.

This one seemed to be solemn and calm, keeping its eyes closed.

"Go ahead, kid," the trader urged him. "Ask it what its power is."

Freddy gulped. He felt even more anxious about asking this time than when he asked the one he had manifested.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally opened his mouth. "Tell me, vestige…

"What power do you hold?"