1% Lifesteal

Thus, he woke up frustrated.

There was no shower in this hotel, only a sink where he could at least wash his armpits, and coupled with the fact that he had to walk past the receptionist, it simply felt like his day was off to a horrible start.

And then he stepped outside.

The city of Nova York was a gigantic place. This wasn't just a coincidence, either. The density of ether was integral to archhumans, and there was much of it here, as could be seen by the numerous wisps flickering through the Netherecho as he took a look.

This had many consequences, and among them was the fact that many passages were around. Naturally, most of them were private or had otherwise limited access, and the closest one he could enter with his qualifications was far away, which was why he had to walk so long.

Every so often, he bitterly tore his gaze from something that seemed fun. It was just a habit of his. He had learned to reject and scorn anything interesting because hating it was better than pining for it when he knew he could never afford it.

That was when he finally realized it. That was when he finally opened his eyes.

There was a massive, fancy building in the distance to his left. He had no idea what it was. But if it was just a residential building, he suddenly felt like it wasn't some area he would never have access to. Maybe he'd even live there eventually. Perhaps he would own a place somewhere even fancier.

With a hungry gaze, he scouted. With each new sight, every new attraction he spotted, his steps quickened. As he saw a club, he thought of… reserving a table. Buying bottles, treating friends. Dancing to the motherfucking music. There was a restaurant, and he could eat there. A cafe. He could sit there, sipping on coffee or whatever he pleased to his heart's content.

As he stepped into an even wealthier area, his eyes sharpened. There were some damn lovely carriages. He wanted one. Libraries, miscellaneous treasure shops, equipment stores, and so much more appeared before his eyes, and now it truly felt like it stood right before him. The shimmering glass outside, the well-illuminated interiors, the opulent people walking in and out. Finally, it all existed in the same world he was living in.

Not long from that moment, he would be among those people.

Throughout his walk, he felt good. There was no fatigue or pain in his legs. The miles vanished below him before he realized it, and he arrived at his destination.

It was a large, well-fortified building with no windows. He wasn't allowed in without an ID proving that he was an archhuman, and as he showed it, he stepped into yet another world foreign to him.

The first thing he noticed was that almost everyone in the room was armored, more or less. Numerous independent archs sat around the massive lobby, many in groups either chattering away about mundane topics or discussing delving strategies.

The second thing that caught his eye was the advertisement. There were so many ads. For classes, instructors, insurance companies, equipment, and supply merchants, there were so many different products that he was dazed by how much his attention was being bounced around.

The fact that all that contact information was so readily available was a pleasant surprise, but reality shot him a painful reminder. The contact information was in codes that could only be used through communication ethertech. The high he had been riding on his way there subsided rapidly. After all, dreams of wealth were one thing—earning it was another.

He took a deep breath and centered himself. He mentally checked his budget. He was at around four hundred and fifty dollars, a paltry sum that couldn't afford practically anything.

Some of the ads flashed numbers like "ONLY $999! SPECIAL PROMOTION FOR insert random reason" and then the product was like… a shitty leather hat or whatever. That was the standard for prices he was dealing with.

The thing about the world of archhumans was that nobody held anyone's hand. If he wanted to charge into the passage utterly ignorant and with nothing but the sweatpants covering his unwashed ass, most anyone would do was tell him that it wasn't a good idea. But nobody had the right to stop him if he wanted to do it anyway.

It was his own responsibility to handle himself and stay alive. And it was his privilege to throw that caution to the wind.

He didn't have enough money. And the first thing he needed was information. So, he rubbed his hands and anxiously blew air out his lips as he mentally prepared himself.

It was time to beg strangers for help.

Like a needle, yesterday's failure had popped his confidence bubble. The worst thing anyone here could do was refuse to share info. Yet he had learned the hard way just how awkward and uncomfortable that refusal could be.

He lightly slapped himself on the cheek. He wasn't here to pick up pretty girls. He was here to ensure he didn't die from something he should have been prepared to deal with.

Archhumans from the second star onwards naturally emitted a sense of pressure. It wasn't easy to tell, though, and most had to focus to perceive it. But it was also possible to suppress this phenomenon and hide one's power from those weaker and, to an extent, from those at the same level.

Two-stars could hide from one another with relative ease. At three stars, concealing one's presence against the senses of another three-star already required quite a bit of proficiency. And four-stars couldn't really hide from one another without a designated talent or extremely pricy equipment.

Thankfully, he was dealing with two-stars at most here, who all publicly broadcasted their presence as if it were a badge of honor. If he was asking for help, he should ensure he looked like he needed it. There was the whole idea of going, "Hey, I'm a two-star big shot; help me out, and maybe you'll get something in return," but he didn't feel that that was a wise choice. Namely, because he had nothing to actually offer.

From a cursory glance, he estimated that two-stars comprised less than five percent of all the people present, making them a notable minority there. Every two-star arch he saw truly looked like one, with an air of experience and severity around them. The way they held themselves, the equipment they carried—those who made it to the second star didn't do so without getting their shit together first.

And then there was him. A skinny, pretty boy without a damn clue as to what the fuck he was doing. If anything, actively showcasing the fact that he was a two-star arch would just invite unwanted attention, and those who "worked hard" for their power could possibly interpret his image as being that of a pampered rich boy who never had to labor to get to where he was. His scars were no longer there. He had no evidence that he had ever been in a fight.

So, he closed his eyes and entered his ethercosm. There, the two three-colored stars, one much bigger than the other and surrounded by a red ring, swirled in their eternal orbit. They shone brightly, broadcasting their existence to the world like the sun shining on the earth from above.

Focusing his authority over his soul, he flexed his will, and the light dimmed. Breathing out a small sigh at the exertion, he felt like the world around him was muted slightly. This was the downside of suppressing one's presence—losing some of the supernatural perception.

He adjusted his posture a bit and felt as ready as ever.

With a consuming glint, he scouted the lobby. The entire first floor was just a large open area. There were a few clerks along the wall on the other side of the room and a large door to the underground, where the passage was located; next to it were stairs that took to the second floor, where one could get their equipment fixed and injuries treated.

Throughout this room, red sofas surrounded wooden coffee tables, with a few colorful chairs beside them. Many groups of people populated these, and he saw only two empty tables.

His eyes traveled to the party closest to him. Three people were seated on a red sofa, the chairs occupied by heavy rucksacks holding their equipment. Judging by the faint sense of suppression he felt coming from them, they were undoubtedly two-stars.

The first thing he thought when he analyzed them was that he almost regretted having a talent that removed injuries so efficiently.

The entire group was heavily scarred, showing many signs of battle and experience. He had seen how others looked at him when he was the one walking around, looking like he'd lost a fight against a sadistic blender-toaster duo, but seeing terrifying scars on others really put it into a different perspective.

A tall, bulky man with a large nose and trimmed brown hair sat to the left, with an even taller but skinnier man beside him, whose hair was blond and his mouth spread in a broad smile, revealing a line of bright teeth. Further to his right was a blonde woman, also quite tall, strikingly resembling the guy in the middle.

The man on the left had a massive red mark all over the right side of his face, stretching into his hair, which was considerably less dense along the red area, showcasing that he had probably lost half his head at one point. The one in the middle had two ugly marks on both his cheeks, almost as if something had speared right through one and out the other, and the woman had a long scar over her left eye, the blue iris of which was a bit paler than its counterpart.

All three had a bunch of other minor marks interspersed throughout their skin. These people clearly had experience. He would approach them first.

The instant he took a single step in their direction, all three turned their eyes to him, immediately spotting his advance with the reaction time only razor-sharp instincts honed in danger permitted. That made him temporarily halt his steps before he regained his resolve and continued his approach.

As he reached their table, the blond man who sat in the middle was the first to call out. "Hi there!" he greeted cheerfully. "Do you have business with us?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I was just wondering if you know where I can find some information on the passage here."

"New here?" the woman asked, eyeing his clothes. He wasn't wearing anything fancy. In fact, he still wore the purple dragon white hoodie he bought for his hoodlum disguise. Either way, he wasn't here to delve but to scout the situation and check things out. And he preferred that that detail was evident to others.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm new to town, just looking to get myself oriented."

"Yeah, good idea," the woman continued. "If you want information, you should go to the clerks and request the guide. They give those away for free to those who register."

"Oh, okay, thanks!" he said and almost turned to follow their advice.

But the man to the left stopped him. "Wait," he called. "You're a beginner, right?"

Freddy nodded. "Yeah."

"You should definitely read the guide, but if you have time, we could share some advice!" he offered. "We've been delving here for years."

"Yeah!" the woman concurred. "I'd be happy to do that!"

"Fine by me," the man in the middle agreed, too.

That left him stumped. He hadn't expected to receive that much help, not for free. "What do you want in return?" he asked cautiously.

In response, the man in the middle intervened. "None of that talk," he chastised. "It's a few minutes for us, and you get to…" the man started, but he suddenly frowned. "Wait, you're a two-star?"

His eyes shot wide open. How did this man see right through him? A perception talent? His mind rushed to find any excuse, but the trio had already changed their demeanor considerably.

"Ah, sorry," the blond man apologized. "I presumed you were a beginner, so I ran my mouth. No offense."

"Yeah…" the woman started, but she didn't look quite as apologetic. "I didn't notice it at all."

"Me neither," the man on the left said, glaring at him with a frown.

"Uh…" he tried but struggled to form any words. "I uh… Yeah, I'm new here, so I… I just… You know, just for privacy's sake."

"Not cool, man," the heavily scarred man said with a shake of his head. "Why are you pretending to be a beginner? There are plenty of information vendors; just cough up the money and buy the advanced guide."

"No, he doesn't deserve that," the blond man rebuked his companion. "He offered us repayment, so I don't think he's that type of person," he said, then turned back to Freddy. "I apologize for intruding on your privacy. My talent caught it, and I yapped before I thought. I'm sure you have your reasons."

"It's… fine," he offered tentatively, unsure whether to leave and try with someone else.

But before he could decide, the blond man continued, "If you're looking for information, my offer still stands."

He stared at the man, feeling somewhat conflicted. On the one hand, perhaps taking the offer was an acceptable option. But on the other hand… what if he offered to repay them anyway? That was an amicable, friendly thing to do, and it could perhaps segue into a mutually beneficial relationship. Or just a friendship. Either would be much help to him.

But… as he thought about it further, he decided against it. He had no money, and everything else in his Storage Ring, which he didn't want to reveal anyway, was too expensive to give away. And besides, if a stranger offered mystery medicines, would anyone just take them and believe they were safe?

No.

The answer to that was a resounding no. Unless they were insane, that was.

So, he sighed and sat down. "I accept your offer, and… thanks." He felt a bit bad for not repaying them anyway, but he refrained from saying stuff like "I can't currently do so." The fewer lies he made, the lower the odds of them talking shit behind his back when he showed just how capable he was.

It was frustrating, but no matter how irritated he felt, that was no excuse to do something stupid. No more of that.

The three adventurers shared their experience delving into the passage for the next half an hour. The two beside the blond man seemed slightly uncomfortable initially, but the atmosphere grew more relaxed as they kept talking.

First, while the passage realm here wasn't an Anomaly, it was a hub—which was to be expected. Every non-anomalous passage realm held at least three passages within, but they weren't always easily accessible.

They could be like the one he saw on those floating rocks in that ocean realm. Or, they could be at the bottom of a large body of water, on a tall, sheer cliff, on a floating island, or even lay undiscovered, located somewhere inaccessible or difficult to find. Hell, there was a precedent for passages being too small for an adult to push through. There was also the fact that some passages led to insanely dangerous or inhospitable realms, and such portals were usually sealed.

Thus, there was a differentiation. Passages that took to so-called "blind realms"—spaces without other easily accessible passages within—were called blind passages. While those that had other passages within were called step-passages, or, colloquially, hubs.

This realm had seven others within, of which three were usable and two were also step-passages. The difficulty of this realm was rated at D-, which basically meant that one needed to be either in a party of one-stars or a beginner two-star to enter at acceptable risk.

They admitted to having already advanced to a more difficult realm but promised their experience wasn't outdated.

For the most part, this realm only had a single monster species. It used to have more, but overhunting resulted in most of them being exterminated.

The realm was coded as C-899923, an upper medium-sized C-class realm. For the most part, it was made up of heavily forested areas, but rocky parts with more sparse growth were scattered around, with harsh, sheer cliffs surrounding the outer perimeter.

"Now, the creatures…" the woman started. "Hmm, how do I put it? They look sort of as if a monkey and a sloth had a mole-faced kid that just entered their 'it's not just a phase, Mom.'"

The two men chuckled at that, nodding in agreement, and Freddy raised an eyebrow at the colorful image.

"They are black-furred, vicious beasts," she continued, "who mostly dwell underground. They have a hierarchy sort of like ants or bees; nine out of ten are workers with spoony nails made for digging, while roughly one in ten makes up the sharp-clawed guards. They're as big as dogs, but the fighters are a bit bulkier. Still, even the workers can easily beat a man to death with their incredible strength and earth-affinity strikes. Don't get complacent."

He nodded. They shared some other stuff about the flora and geographical layout of the area. Apparently, the rocky parts got pretty extreme, which created a limited-visibility environment in some places. It was easy to get surrounded or even swarmed from above, and according to them, if their team leader didn't have his talent, they would have gotten screwed over many times.

Well, they had gotten screwed over many times. They had lost people in the realm before. And all of them had narrowly skirted death at least once. Freddy didn't need any proof—their scars were more than enough evidence.

"Be careful where you go," the man in the middle warned him. "Anywhere you can't see more than 180 degrees of your surroundings should be treated as if it were a trap. You will get cornered. You will get surrounded. A stampede of them could appear on top of you way faster than you think. Always remain cautious."

After a few more bits of advice, they concluded their lecture. He nodded and shook their hands, the two parties separating with a few non-committal see-you-arounds and hope-we-meet-agains. With that out of the way, he walked over to the counter and registered.

The process was straightforward; they just wrote down his personal ID number and name, noting him as a registered delver for this area. He would have preferred not using his ID, but it was unavoidable. Thankfully, establishments such as this one were quite tactful when it came to privacy. They based much of their business on trust.

He was handed the guidebook, entirely free, and even a catalog of nearby stores and equipment providers. That was the first time he ever appreciated being given an advertisement.

The list of stores was for later. Now, it was time to read.

He made himself comfortable in one of the few free spaces he could sit alone in and started chipping away at the extensive guide.

Not much new information was discovered, and after finishing it, he scanned the catalog. On the very first page, he found $299 socks.

"What the fu—" he exclaimed before restraining himself, remembering he was in a public place.

The ads made it pretty clear already—arch equipment was expensive. But socks? Fucking socks? Really? Although, as frustrating as it was, the sales pitch in the catalog was clear about why they were so costly.

First, they were designed to be puncture-, slashing-, and tearing-resistant, ultra-comfortable, liquid-repellant, and resistant to both acid and fire. And, on top of that, the cloth was interwoven with thread that blocked essence flow and prevented stuff like life-affinity abilities from pushing through the fabric.

Given how much they did, their price was unsurprising. But this was just the minimum. While they indeed had all those functions, it was only technically the case. These were graded as appropriate for one-stars. The ones for two-stars started at over a thousand dollars.

"Okay then," he whispered as he slammed the catalog shut. "I guess I'll go ask more people for advice."

***

By the time he returned to the hotel, it was already nighttime. Actually, it was night by the time he started walking. The receptionist waved at him somewhat sarcastically, but he frankly couldn't be bothered to care. Once he was in his room, he breathed out heavily.

What should he do?

Strictly speaking, he didn't need two-star-grade underwear or most of the random fiddly doos or whatever. But he did need armor. He did need proper gear. And he needed experience.

True, the difficulty rating of D- meant that a solo two-star should be able to delve there with acceptable risk, but while he did have two stars in his soul, he didn't really fall under the traditional definition of a two-star warrior. By this level of power, he should have had his shit together. That difficulty rating considered that he should have at least several years of experience and all the equipment he needed under his belt.

But he didn't.

So what should he do? Join a party? He didn't like that idea, not yet. He had too many secrets, too much that he wasn't comfortable showing to others. Selling anything in his ring was out of the question, too. Too much risk, too much unknown. The Kraven had lost their goddamn patriarch—who knew what all they were keeping an eye out for? Maybe even just having the ring on him was a risk he shouldn't be taking.

The dimly lit, tiny room spun above him as his mind whirled. What was the risk of striking out into that passage by himself? As in, what were the odds of dying? One in ten? One in twenty? Throughout his investigation today, he had heard several stories of people getting surrounded, encountering a deviant monster, and just a lot of shit going wrong. And he knew damn well that if anything like that happened to him, he would be screwed.

That night, he barely slept. The day after, he woke up late and felt terrible, still unable to get his mind off everything. Yet again, he traveled to the passage hub and asked others for advice and help. Many rejected him outright. It stung. His heart tightened every time he saw disapproving, uninterested expressions turning away from him, but he pushed through it each time and tried again.

Eventually, two parties of one-stars shared their tales. Both had lost people. Both had encountered life-threatening scenarios, and even to that day, they had things go wrong on a semi-daily basis.

He filled the rest of the time rereading the guide, and, yet again, he returned late, having spent the whole day trying to gather intel. Once more, he had a restless night and woke up feeling even worse than yesterday.

"Goddamn cities," he muttered under his breath. "Not enough plants to murder."

Maybe he'd feel better if he could use his talent a bit, but there was nothing to hit. Everything in the city was either dead or nonliving, save for the people and the few animals that passed by. Well, there were trees on some streets, but punching those would be the actions of a total lunatic. And violation of public property.

He groaned in frustration as he dropped back down on the futon.

Rather than leave the hotel, he pondered his options for most of that day. Perhaps he could start working on his blood affinity, but that wasn't a good idea. He had no knowledge of how to do anything related to blood abilities, and he knew from the stories that experimenting on his own could get really dangerous.

Raising his finger, he focused, and without much effort required, his blood seeped through his pores and pooled on his index finger. No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't make it float. Doing so with water was one thing—blood was extremely difficult to manipulate when not making contact with one's body.

But.

With a small burst of will, the tiny droplet of blood turned into a sharp needle. Or, well, at least it took the shape of one. Trying to pierce something with it instantly made it collapse, and… He should probably stop there. That already cost him a few drops of blood.

Without the Pool of Blood tempering technique, using the blood affinity was dangerous. It was easy to get carried away and lose more blood than one could afford, and a coma was the best-case scenario in such situations.

But there was still… the other affinity.

With a slight exertion of will, he focused and appeared in his ethercosm, staring at the dark blue part of his stars.