“Madame—ack! Please!” Freddy begged as the sharp, claw-like nails drew blood.
Madame pulled him over the table and threw him across the room, and as he landed back first on his wall, he concluded that he was starting to despise being thrown into damn walls.
“Please wait!” he continued pleading.
“Do you know what I hate the most?” she asked him as she took a firm step forward. “Idiots who believe they have the right to offload their personal problems onto me. I am an entertainer, Freddy,” she said in a way that a pacifist definitely wouldn’t, “and I don’t enjoy conflict.”
“I swear to you, Madame; I swear to God,” he said. “I had no idea that someone was after me!” he said honestly.
Her eyes squinted. “Then why did you—”
“I remembered some—” he interrupted her, pausing to see whether she would let him speak.
She merely remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.
“All right,” he said, sweating bullets. “Back when we talked about this, I told you about the man who approached me.”
She squinted harder at that.
He continued, “Well, I remembered something, or rather, I-I realized that I misinterpreted something he asked me!” he spluttered. “While he was interested in my clothing, that probably wasn’t what he was looking for… because the first thing he asked me was whether I had seen anything bloody in the Netherecho.”
That made her eyebrows raise slightly, and she gritted her teeth. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but he cut her off before she could do that. “I believe he was looking for a unique vestige! Given that this other blood arch is after me, it’s likely that it hasn’t been found yet and that I’m on the list of suspects!”
“Well,” she said, “Are you hiding it?”
“Am I hiding a unique vestige!?” he spat as if insulted at the question. “I… I don’t even know how I would hide it!”
Intentionally, at least.
“Freddy,” she fired, her voice colder than ice and sharper than a dagger. “A simple yes or no will suffice; are you hiding a unique vestige?”
He froze. Technically, the answer to that question was no. He was hiding a unique remnant. But did he have the balls to deny it? For whatever reason, this whole conversation gave him the sense that she could tell whether he was lying.
“No…” So he said the truth. His heart clenched as if cold, skeletal hands had grasped it, and he froze. That was stupid. That was real stupid. Even if she took the damn remnant, it was way better than dying. All he could do now was double down. “No,” he said again, “I’m not hiding a unique vestige.”
“I am going to ask you one more time,” she said, taking another aggressive step forward. Her tall, lithe body loomed over him like a reaper, casting a shadow while her narrowed eyes shimmered like glass orbs.
He didn’t dare raise his eyes. Droplets of blood flowed from his neck and trickled down his shirt, with every drop marking a step closer to his demise.
“Did you,” she started, “or did you not hold any suspicion that you would bring enemies to my door by signing a contract with me?”
“No,” he denied without hesitation. “I had no idea.”
“Very well,” she said. “Next question. Are you, or are you not, hiding something important from me?”
He flinched. Not even a moment passed until her arm stretched and grasped him by the neck, raising his entire body into the air.
“Wait!” he eked out.
“What are you hiding?” She demanded an answer, her tone making it very clear that he was royally fucked if he said the wrong thing.
“I’m—I’m, wait, please, let me elaborate.”
“Speak.”
“All right,” he said, nodding frantically. “I discovered the other day that my soul construct can extract essence from wisps!”
Her lips twitched. Her gaze bore a hole into his eyes as she inspected them, peering so deeply into them that it was as if she were examining his soul. “There is something else,” she said, bringing her face closer to his.
“I… I…” He could barely speak from the terror. “I… I told Mark… I… I told him some… de-details… I broke the NDA.”
He couldn’t tolerate the weight of her gaze any longer, so he closed his eyes and turned his head, gritting his teeth in preparation for whatever was about to come.
Until, “Hmph—” she scoffed as she retracted her arm, letting his body drop to the ground. “While I don’t appreciate your behavior, it’s hardly out of the norm for someone like… you,” she dismissed.
Her tongue visibly rubbed over her upper teeth beneath the skin, and she tapped a finger to her lips. “I just can’t brush off the feeling that you’re still scheming something,” she said. “I’m good at reading people, you see,” she declared as he crouched down and cupped her chin between her index finger and thumb as she looked at him again. “And I can practically taste an… incongruence. Something isn’t lining up.”
He reflexively bit the inside of his cheek.
She smiled a bit. “There it is,” she remarked as she stretched her arm and poked his cheek, making him flinch violently. Then, with a shrug, she got up. “You aren’t forbidden from keeping secrets, you know.”
His body language instantly shifted as an aching hope sparked on his face despite his attempt to hide it.
“What?” she asked. “Surprised?” she teased. Then, her smile vanished. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I like it, but as long as you’re not my enemy or doing something that will bring me trouble, I don’t need to know everything about you. So, what do you say to that…” she said teasingly. “Are you my enemy?”
His lips pursed as he took a few deep breaths through his nose. “I really don’t want to be.”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she started giggling. Her head cocked back as she started laughing, her beautiful voice echoing through his apartment like the cries of an exotic bird. “Now there is an answer I like!” she declared. “Very well. I guess I’ve bothered you enough. Thank you for your time, young man,” she stated simply as she turned around and, just like that, started walking away.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Through some miracle, he had actually managed to keep Bloodshed hidden and stay alive. But he wasn’t satisfied. An immense, blazing-hot fury bubbled in his gut as she shook, trying not to scream at the top of his lungs.
Just as she was about to leave the room, believing she was out of earshot, he whispered under his breath. “You fucking bitch.”
The room froze. The aura of death returned instantly. Madame stood so still that he would believe she was a statue if he didn’t know otherwise.
The room subtly vibrated with the movement of something unseen shifting through the air, and the ether lamp that kept the space illuminated flickered, turning considerably less bright afterward. She turned around, a stony smirk plastered on her tight lips.
“You do not have the right to speak to me like that,” she said. “Do you understand?”
It took him a few moments to shake off the momentary paralysis as he frantically nodded.
“Good. Don’t let that happen again. If you must vent your frustration, I believe my previous gift shall suffice.” She gestured at the shifting mass of flesh sitting in the corner of his kitchen. And with that, she walked out and slammed the door shut.
And he, as Madame had suggested, crawled over to the mass of flesh and pummeled it. But his anger didn’t go away. Instead, with every punch he threw…
He only felt more pissed off.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
***
Freddy appeared at the gym the next day, only to find Mark with his arm wrapped in bandages. “Whoa, you okay?” he asked the young man. Mark looked as if movement pained him, and his skin appeared rather pale, with deep eye bags highlighting a lack of sleep.
Mark winced and sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I was caught off guard during the delve yesterday and got a slash across my forearm,” he informed. “Not a big deal. This sort of stuff happens rather often when you delve alone. If anything, I’m surprised I managed to avoid injuries for so long.”
Given how many scars the young man had lining his body, he was sure that this was little more than a plus one to a long series of scars. Although he didn’t envy Mark’s inability to swiftly recover, he did think that his scars were cool.
No matter how tough he got, outwardly, he would always appear smooth as polished marble. That kind of sucked.
Throughout that entire training session, Freddy consistently broke his personal records.
Not by much, but it was enough to leave Mark clearly impressed. “You’re on a roll today, damn.”
“I’m feeling it,” he said. Feeling deeply frustrated, that was.
If he had learned anything yesterday, it was that he was in deep shit. Whoever the Kraven Clan were, they were trouble. Big trouble. If even Madame wasn’t happy to have to deal with them, anything short of moving across the damn empire wouldn’t give him enough peace of mind to sleep at night.
The list of things he could do to improve his odds of getting out of this situation alive was short, to say the least.
On that day, he had made a decision. He needed money. A lot of money. His head turned to face his trainer as a burning question prickled the top of his tongue.
Mark noticed his stare. “You good?” he asked.
“Yeah… Uhm… Would you be willing to take me along for a delve?” he asked.
“No,” the man shot him down.
“But—”
“There are no buts!” Mark shouted, attracting some gazes their way. He calmed down a bit in the next moment. “You have no bloody idea how dangerous delving is,” he said. “If anything happened to you, and trust me, it could and would, Madame would kill me.”
“We’ll try to reason with her,” he tried. “Maybe she would let me do it.”
Mark scoffed at that. “No,” he said, biting his lip as a look of profound frustration washed over his face. “That won’t happen.”
***
Mark headed home with Freddy once they were done since his injury prevented him from training. They headed down the street, and before long, they were back in their building.
Freddy turned to Mark. “Hey, do you want to—”
“No, sorry,” the man refused. “I already have lunch prepared.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Well, that’s not a big deal, right? Just grab the lunch and come over to—”
“Freddy,” Mark interrupted him. “I… I have to deal with a few other things. We’ll have lunch tomorrow or maybe dinner tonight. How does that sound?”
He nodded at him and patted him on the shoulder. “Okay, chief, you’re the boss. I’ll see you later, man. Rest up.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Mark headed into his apartment and locked the door behind him as soon as he entered. With a shaky hand, he pulled another pill out of his pocket and shoved it into his mouth as he headed to the bathroom.
He put his mouth under the faucet, gulped the water down, and swallowed, fighting against his gag reflex as his stomach tried to eject anything that entered it.
Taking the bandages off, he winced at the pain but endured. He couldn’t help himself from panicking once he saw the wound.
A grisly, deep, inflamed gash spread from the back of his hand to his elbow. The stitches were barely holding together.
He poured the disinfectant over the wound again and cleaned it, wincing at the pain as he pinched the red injury and squeezed several tablespoons of pus out. Seeing that made him panic harder, and he wiped it off with a sterile rag, applied more disinfectant, and bandaged his arm back up.
It was fine. No, it would be fine. It just had to hurry up and heal. And he had to hurry and return to his work.
With deep breaths, he returned to his room and lay in his bed.
Sleep did not come easy to him, however.
His arm burned. So, so bad.
***
Freddy finished his lunch and was getting ready to head to the forest when his door rang. It was Matt. In his hands was a small box wrapped up like a gift.
He raised his eyebrow. “What is this?” he asked.
“A small present from Madame,” the man said, causing his throat to tighten slightly.
“I… I see,” he said as he held his hand out and received the box.
The man also handed him a piece of paper.
A cursory glance revealed that it was an invitation. To a party, at that.
He glanced at Matt and tried returning the invitation, but the man held a palm up to stop him. “Your participation is mandatory, as per Madame’s request.”
“Tell her I refuse,” he tried, but—
“I am not here to negotiate, Mr. Stern. The gathering is on Friday evening. Please be ready to leave at 7:30 at the latest. Have a good day.” And with that, he turned around and left.
His hand dropped to his side, and he shrugged. “At least I tried.” He turned around and headed to the living room.
A small part of him was afraid to open the box for fear of it being something dangerous, but it wasn’t like Madame needed to use underhanded methods to harm him. He pulled the numerous hatches open and peeled the seal off. The small lid was flipped open, revealing a tiny, thoroughly wrapped-up piece of meat.
There was a small piece of paper detailing a rudimentary recipe for its preparation. Apparently, most he was allowed to do with it was put a light sear on it, and even that “reduced the meat’s efficacy.”
He couldn’t be bothered to do that, so he ate it raw. A small part of him was still afraid that it was laced with something like a truth serum or some other bullshit, so before digging in, he prepared the knife and approached the flesh blob, readying himself to start stabbing the instant he felt something was off.
He peeled the plastic off and gingerly grabbed the tender piece with his fingers. As his teeth reached the fleshy substance, he bit, eating a small chunk of it. Immediately, the knife fell out of his hands. The next beat of his heart was like a gong being struck by a meteorite, and before long, he was violently shoving the treasure down his throat.
A soothing yet ravenous power flooded his body, seeping into his soul and nourishing his bones.
His ether star instantly jumped from 32% to 47% capacity, drastically increasing his overall essence reserves.
“What the fuck was that!?”
Apparently, she was more aware of how much of a bitch she was yesterday than he presumed. Hell, if he could expect gifts such as this one, he’d offer himself up for another beatdown without hesitation.
He licked the fingers he grabbed the meat with, and even that sent a pulse of power into his body. He even licked the plastic wrapping.
The emptiness of the box suddenly felt heavy, and upon realizing that there was none left, he felt almost as disappointed as when he woke up to find his adoptive parents gone. His state was so strange that he had to stab the flesh blob a few times to ensure he hadn’t been drugged.
Well. At least she knew how to apologize. Although he hated to admit it, as he knew that was what she was aiming for, he couldn’t help but feel less hatred toward her. Sighing, he got up.
It was time for his martial arts training.
***
Freddy was bewildered at how drastic the increase in his essence reserves was. And it wasn’t just a matter of overall capacity. His Essence Extraction soul construct’s power slowed down the closer his reserves were too full. This was a matter of percentage, meaning that with the 50 percent increase to his capacity, the speed at which he recovered had nearly, but not quite, also increased by 50 percent.
Given the means and more than enough motivation, on that day, he truly pushed himself.
Sweat beads rolled down his glistening body as he punched the tree over and over. And finally, after God knew how many punches…
The tree finally fell down.
***
Freddy returned to his apartment later in the day, and the first thing he did was knock on Mark’s door. He rang the bell, too, but the young man wasn’t answering.
Probably isn’t home, he concluded, feeling slightly betrayed.
He went into his apartment and walked over to the kitchen. After dinner, he pretended to nap on the table while his projection crawled out to visit his favorite skeleton.
“My liege,” Bloodshed greeted him as it bowed. “Do you require my servitude?”
“As a matter of fact, I do, my loyal minion!” he declared dramatically.
Back when Bloodshed suddenly appeared, he overlooked an important detail—how did it know where he was? So, he proceeded to ask it precisely that. “Tell me, Bloodshed. How can you tell where I am?”
“It is simple, my lord,” Bloodshed answered. “No matter how far you are, I can sense the true direction I must take to reach you. For that is the only path that lies ahead of me.”
He would cock an eyebrow at that if his projection had any. “Do you think that would work, let’s say, if I entered a passage?”
“That is irrelevant,” Bloodshed declared without hesitation. “Distance and realm are no barrier to my loyalty.”
Even if they didn’t know the answer, personified ether constructs couldn’t say something untrue. Which meant that it could track him down even if he was somewhere in the interspace.
While that was actually pretty damn terrifying, it also revealed a possibility to him.
“Say, Bloodshed,” Freddy started. “Can you keep track of time?”
“I can always tell when a day has come and gone.”
“Can you count to seven hundred?”
“Yes.”
Freddy wondered if the inside of the shadowy hood covering his head had revealed an outline of the shit-eating grin he flashed at that moment.
He didn’t have a way to reliably hide Bloodshed. As it stood, the only reason it hadn’t been discovered was probably because Madame and Matt didn’t consider the possibility that a goddamn plastic bag could capture a remnant.
This meant that he was on a timer. Either he found a way to hide Bloodshed before the six months were up, or he would lose it. There was no way to get an ability to tier two in such a short time, meaning that he had to keep Bloodshed hidden. Either way, if given the ability to consume it, he didn’t want to do so.
It was Bloodshed, after all. It was his loyal minion. What kind of cruel master would devour his own subject?
His reasoning definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Bloodshed could evolve into an eidolon. It also had nothing to do with the fact that a loyal eidolon servant was likely the best ally anyone could possibly ask for.
Nope. Definitely had nothing to do with that.
Fantasies of possible futures weren’t his priority now, however. What he needed the most was to find a way to keep the remnant hidden.
And with what he had just learned, he was confident that he knew the perfect method to do so.