1% Lifesteal

The meeting room was around twice as big as a middle-class living room. The gray couch with the coffee table was on one end, and a large meeting table was on the other. In the far corner was a window facing a tree that partly covered the neighboring plot of land, where a large, red mansion resided.

On the table, there were several cups of coffee. Some were empty, and others had long run cold. The doors opened, and the servant lady brought several fresh, steaming cups. Freddy nearly thanked the woman but restrained himself, deciding that doing so would be out of character. He lit another cigarette. This was almost the last one. He pressed it to his lips and pulled in hard, filling his lungs to the brim. The hot, burning sensation was comforting, and his nerves instantly relaxed.

The semi-bodyguards he had come here with were standing to the side, watching the table. The golden-haired Spike stood a bit further away with his back turned to everyone else.

And right in front of Freddy sat a man. He was pretty tall; his appearance was youthful, but he gave off an aged aura. His clothing and demeanor felt like they came from a different time. The man’s cheeks were a bit sunken but not unhealthily; his skin was pale, but it was a natural hue; his forehead was wide, his chin pronounced, his black, short hair was parted down the middle, and his sharp green eyes seemed like they could pierce through any disguise in the world.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Slave,” the man greeted Freddy. “My name is August. I will be appraising the goods you present for the arrangement between you and Mr. Spike,” he spoke succinctly in a well-practiced, polite, and respectful tone.

The reason why Freddy wanted Spike to face the other direction was simple—he had no idea how well-versed the man was in matters of consumable items. While August seemed like a decent enough person, looks and demeanor could be deceiving.

If Spike saw the goods being presented and recognized them as valuable, August could downplay their function. To minimize the possibility of this happening, the negotiations would proceed as such:

First, he would bring the items out one at a time, after which they would be evaluated.

Then, August would describe them. He wasn’t allowed to name the items. He was only allowed to explain what they did and how many doses there were.

Finally, after the evaluation, he could offer the items to Spike or take them back.

He had added a rule, however—if he noticed that, at any point, August intentionally tried to mislead him on the item’s value, he would immediately cut the deal and walk out.

While he could have requested that the man also state the monetary value of the items, there was no point in doing that. Because even if he did, how would he evaluate that price's legitimacy? The man could undershoot it as much as he wanted, but in the end, the two parties’ knowledge of the value of such items was the only thing that mattered. A price could only serve to misguide—not inform him.

Luckily, from his extensive lessons in foraging, he was familiar with the prices different classes of items went for. He was far from an expert, but he wasn’t oblivious, either.

Finally taking the last breath of smoke left in the cigarette, he extinguished the still-burning butt in the ashtray and made eye contact with August. Then, he opened his eyes comically wide, stuck his tongue out, spread his nostrils with his fingers, and made other goofy faces and expressions.

August was bemused—but Spike made no sign that he noticed anything. Good. He probably didn’t have a perception talent that allowed him to see behind his back or something of the sort.

With that out of the way, he sank his consciousness into the ring on his finger. While he had no idea which items were the most valuable, he still tried to pick the stuff his intuition told him was the least costly. There were nine items in total, and he made his first pick.

With a quiet pop, a plastic box filled with numerous round, green pills appeared in his hand.

August politely received the box, extracted one of the pills, and then took a long, hard look at it. He pulled out a magnifying glass and ran it over it, then he smelled it, taking a deep breath. After he was done, he placed it in the box and handed the container back.

As soon as Freddy received the item, August started his description, “A potent medicine with a temporary perception-enhancing effect. Repeated usage can permanently increase sensory acuity, but there is a strong possibility of negative consequences to health, which get exponentially more likely with prolonged consumption. Most notably, they cause near-guaranteed impotence, increase the risk of heart failure, and can result in kidney problems. There are a total of a hundred and twenty-three doses.”

Freddy thought about it. This was pretty valuable. The side effects were drastic, and that definitely knocked their value down. Still, with so many pills, this surely added up to a lot of money.

“I’m not gonna offer this item,” he said, putting it back into the storage ring. The reason why was simple—he wanted to use them himself. The side effects were no demerit to him due to his talent, and the effect was definitely worth it.

Then, he pulled out the next item.

It was a small, white cloth bag with dirt-colored, powdery chunks of substance within. All of it put together could maybe fill an average-sized hand.

August raised an eyebrow when he saw what was inside the bag. He closed it right back up and handed it back, meaning he already knew what it was from a glance.

“The next item,” he started, “is a blood elixir with the properties of a steroid. A single dose is enough to kill an adult mortal man, and it is guaranteed to destroy the homeostasis of one’s body. Its primary use is for raising beasts. There are thirty doses in total.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that back,” he said. Whether it was worth using, he had no idea, but he knew that it wasn’t particularly valuable.

The next item was up.

It was a flaky, purple substance stored in a brown silken bag. August grabbed a tiny bit, sniffed it, observed it, then put it back and lightly licked the tip of his finger. “Poison,” he said. “Extremely potent poison,” his words slurred, and he had to pull a potion out of his personal storage ring and drink a sip. “There are probably two hundred or more doses of it here.”

Spike chuckled a bit. Indeed. Even he was wondering what the fuck kind of crazy bastard Janhalar was to be carrying stuff like this around.

“I’ll offer this item,” Freddy said, pushing the bag forward.

Spike pondered it for a while. “I’ll take that, but that isn’t enough.”

“You sure about that?” Freddy called the bluff. “This might be the last item I have.”

“If so, you don’t have enough value to trade.”

A long pause settled between the two of them, and then Freddy snorted. “Hmph.” He pulled the next item out.

It was a cream stored in a round container.

August seemed very impressed by it. “This is a supreme-quality healing item applied to the skin's surface. There is enough to cover the total skin surface of an average adult male around one and a half times.”

“I’ll offer this as well,” he said unhesitantly. He had no basically no use for it.

“Accepted, but not enough,” Spike said.

“Oh, come on, dude,” he protested, shaking his head. “Don’t get greedy. This is supreme-quality we’re talking about. I know for a fact that this has to be worth a fortune.”

“A fortune?” Spike asked with a snicker. “It’s a skin product, Slave. It’s probably the most worthless supreme-quality piece of medicine in existence. Stop stalling and just go on.”

“It’s still worth a fuck ton of money. I’m not a goddamn idiot. Downplay the value of another item and I’m out.”

Spike remained silent for a long second. “Whatever. It still isn’t enough.” The man raised the document file and waved it around. “I don’t have to downplay the value of what you’re offering to know how desperately you need this. So go on, Slave, raise the offer.”

Silence again.

After a few long breaths, Freddy clicked his tongue as he pulled out the next item. Sealed in a bag of synthetic material were thin roots of sorts. There was only a tiny amount of this substance.

August seemed delighted, almost as if this had triggered some form of fond memory for him. “Ah, indeed, this is a highly potent medicine used to calm nerves and reduce anxiety. There are five doses here.”

Freddy frowned at that. That seemed ordinary and mundane, but as the evaluator spotted his frown, he shook his finger. “Do not be mistaken, Mr. Slave. This is a precious item. Many in power use it to function through stressful periods. But there is, unfortunately, little of it left.”

“I’ll be real with you, pal,” Spike butted in. “I already know what that is. That’s milky pink alia root. You use it to make tea. I could take that, I drink that shit all the time, but it’s not gonna make a difference. Five doses is like thirty grand.”

“Right then,” Freddy said. “I’ll take it back. I’m just gonna drink it myself.”

Then, it was time for the following item. He extracted another small bag. The material felt incredibly fine to the touch, and he knew that he was entering serious-value territory.

August adopted a severe expression as he reached for it. As he cracked the bag open, he sharply inhaled and looked at Freddy with a stricken expression. His hand shook slightly as he handed the item back.

“That…” he started hesitantly. “It is an incredibly powerful medicine. Consuming it can put one in a special meditative state to make… manifesting the next star easier.”

As soon as the man finished his appraisal, he instantly grabbed the two items off the table and put all three back into the storage ring. Before he could turn around, the bodyguards were blocking the door, and Spike was rushing at him. He quickly kicked the table up and pushed it forward, but a mighty gust of wind blew it aside.

He spotted the blonde man swinging a shortsword at him. Wind whirled around his body, twirling his fur coat and blowing his hair back.

Freddy nearly got struck by the blow, but he used his bare hand to block it, allowing the sword to stab right through it, and then swung a Flowing Strike at the man. Spike was an air-affinity arch, and with a small burst of wind, his head rapidly moved out of the way of the attack.

Unfortunately for him, the man failed to notice that Freddy had already impaled his hand down to the handle and gripped the man’s fist with a steel clasp—a move that seemed to be becoming a signature of his.

He pulled the man’s arm back, and Spike couldn’t dodge as Freddy swung his leg at the man’s gut. The attack landed, even timing the Flowing Strike flawlessly, but… it was as if he’d slammed a cushion. A thick layer of air protected the man, and without the extra weight from Abyssal Depths, most of the impact was absorbed.

The blonde man was knocked back, and his weapon was wrestled away. Freddy made his way to the corner of the room, eyeing the windows, but suddenly, a metallic barrier slammed shut, closing both it and barricading the doors. Spike and his men were already surrounding him.

During his time as a forager, the single most expensive herb in the caverns was the Starfire Mirror Rose.

Its effect?

It could be turned into an elixir that made manifesting the next star easier. In fact, this plant was valued so highly that the staff offered a total forgiveness of debt if it was located—regardless of how significant the debt was.

It made sense, too. Growing a star could be slow, but even if it crawled at a snail’s pace, it was still mostly a matter of time and perseverance. Manifesting the next star, however… That was trickier. The second star was relatively easy, but from then onward, numerous individuals spent practically their entire lives unable to make progress.

An item that could make that easier? Forget about buying it with mere money—its sale was the equivalent of granting a major political favor.

Freddy pulled the sword out of his injured hand and eyed Spike angrily, but there was some understanding beneath his furious gaze. In a world where the number of stars in one’s soul practically put them in an entirely different class, anything that could make progress easier was priceless. Judging by what his senses told him, this man was on the second star—and likely stuck at the peak.

So that was why, without hesitation, he pulled out the bag of precious elixir and the lighter. “Take a single fucking step closer, and this baby is going up in flames,” he threatened.

“Be reasonable, Slave,” Spike said. “You’re not leaving this place alive if you burn that.”

At that, he chuckled. Then, he started cackling like a lunatic. There was no fakeness or acting to his laughter. After all, he truly found it funny. How many times would he find himself in a scenario like this? Giving the bag up was out of the question. It wasn’t a matter of getting away—his pride wouldn’t let him give it up.

Between getting bullied out of something rightfully his and just outright dying, he’d choose the latter. No more of that shit.

So, he suddenly placed the bag back into the ring and replaced it with another one. Instantly, the bodyguards stepped back, and August paled as he ran to the other corner.

It didn’t take long for Spike to catch on. “Oh, dear…” he whispered.

“Yup,” he said, holding the bag with nearly two hundred doses of extremely potent poison powder. “I might not be able to escape with my life, but I can ensure you motherfuckers go down with me.”

Spike, however, merely chuckled at that. “I have the air affinity. Not a single speck of that will make it to me even if you scatter it through the room.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said with a dangerous glint in his eye. “I have a way to keep you right where you fucking are—and I know for a fact you can’t avoid it.”

That made the blonde man frown. There was no way to verify what exactly he was talking about. If he had a talent that allowed him to restrain Spike or, even more likely, an item he stole from his 'previous boss’, he could very well deliver on his promise of mutual destruction.

Clicking his tongue and scratching the back of his head, Spike groaned. “Fine,” he surrendered. “Sorry for doing that.”

“Even if you licked my crack clean, I wouldn’t forgive you,” Freddy said. “Now, please, get the fuck out of my way so I can—”

“Wait, slow down,” Spike urged. “Don’t be so hasty.”

“Let me guess,” he said with a sardonic grin. “You want to buy the ascension elixir off me?”

“Slave, my guy,” Spike said as he picked up the documents off the table. “If you leave without these papers, you’re a dead man walking.”

He couldn’t refute that. From their perspective, given that he had the elixir, it probably looked like he’d robbed someone extremely rich and powerful. Which, to be fair, was true. If he left without those papers, and his story wasn’t total bullshit, he would indeed be well and truly fucked.

But luckily, that scenario was wholly made up. “I’ll take my chances,” he said.

“August,” Spike called. “How many doses were there?”

“A… Around fifteen, I believe,” the man replied.

“What!?” the man spat. “God fucking damn, Slave, who the hell did you rob!?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’s entirely my business,” Spike said as a vile grin spread on his face. “If I spread the rumor… well… it won’t take long for the owner to come after you. In that case, I might even get a cut as a reward.”

“Try it,” he said. True, even though his story was made up, if Spike spread the rumor, he’d be in hot water either way. But he was ready to go quite the distance to ensure his safety. Even if he had to live in the woods for years or mutilate himself again, he’d do it until he made it far enough to get out of danger.

Given the frown on his face, Spike could clearly sense the determination in those words. He clicked his tongue. “You’re a crazy bastard, you know that?” he said, sighing. “Ok. I get it. I’ll give you an offer.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Freddy said. “You think money can—”

“I didn’t say anything about money, doofus,” the man said as he pulled a small object out of his storage ring. It was a palm-sized platinum card.

Freddy thought that he recognized the object from somewhere.

“This is a platinum membership card for the Tower of York,” the golden-haired man explained.

Freddy’s eyes instantly widened.

“That’s right,” Spike said. “I understand that the elixir in your possession isn’t something money can buy. But you have a lot. Even if you use all of them on yourself, you’re not gonna need fifteen doses.”

“And you want to trade for it?”

Spike licked his lips. “I can settle for half.”

“And why do you think I want that card?”

“Because this, too…” Spike said, waving the small card, “is also something that money can’t buy."