1% Lifesteal

Although being watched over did mean that Freddy was at least somewhat safe, it made some of the tasks he had to do painfully embarrassing. He yet again squatted as deep as he could and made yet another clumsy jump forward—for what was likely past the hundredth time in a row.

That day was the first time he had used the Frog Leap technique. Not only did using it give him a splitting headache, but it also felt like something was being violently shoved up his ass whenever he triggered the ability.

He had gotten rather lucky with Flowing Strike, which suited him quite well, but this version of Frog Leap simply didn't fit him. This meant he had to buy a new movement ability or make one himself.

Now, Frog Leap was a decent ability, but he had grown more ambitious lately. So, if he had to choose between an easy way out or a challenge, he would pick the latter every time.

Thus, he had tasked himself with manifesting a particular ability—Hydraulic Flex. This wasn't a movement ability, at least strictly speaking.

It was a general martial arts technique. It used a pump of pressure to flex a specific muscle. It was generally considered top-tier for all forms of martial arts.

And it also couldn't be obtained through a scroll.

Manifesting this ability was a tremendous investment of time and effort. Everyone was unique, and this ability needed to fully suit whoever was using it. Many tried and succeeded at creating a partial version that only worked on a few select muscles.

But he was hellbent on making it perfect.

Regarding mobility, Hydraulic Flex was a one-stop shop for everything from jumps, leaps, dashes, running, swinging, and pretty much all forms of parkour. In fact, Frog Leap was just a limited version of the skill, one that focused on leaps.

Getting down into another squat and focusing on the water in his legs, Freddy exerted his essence again and tried compressing the water to enhance the flex of his muscles. It yet again failed to do anything but cramp his leg, and this time, he sprawled on the ground.

Yet again, he realized how lucky he was to have 1% Lifesteal. One of the primary barriers to mastering Hydraulic Flex was the ever-present risk of setbacks due to injury. For him, that was far from a concern.

It had been only a few days since his meeting with Madame. He had already noted that his growth was slowing down, but the degree had drastically worsened over the past few days.

He sensed himself running out of essence again, so he meditated. Keeping Bloodshed fully hidden was the best for the time being, so he no longer had help gathering. Still, he was improving enough that it wasn't a massive hindrance.

Blue wisps flowed toward him, seeping into his soul and slightly aiding his essence recovery. But they seemingly made no impact on the size of his star. He pushed his meditation onward, but he was out of water wisps to consume even before his willpower faltered.

With a deep sigh, he got up and continued his standard training, too low on essence to continue practicing his techniques.

This was the main problem he was facing.

There was Flowing Strike, his tempering techniques, Create Water, and now, he was working on Hydraulic Flex. It was akin to a penniless beggar making an extensive shopping list. There just wasn't enough essence to go around.

Focusing on his star, he felt for its capacity. When he tried sensing it, he could roughly feel how far along his progress was to reaching the apex of the first star's total potential.

At that moment, he felt that he was at around 27%, a bit over a quarter of the way to finishing his star.

Even with the slow-down accounted for, he had been expecting to be able to increase his reserves by at least another 10% in the next month. Now? He wasn't sure if he'd raise them by 2%.

This meant he had to schedule different techniques on different days, making him feel like his progress had slowed to a crawl.

Stabbing the mangled mass of flesh to heal himself perfectly, he punched and kicked the tree. His fists had grown bulkier, and his wrist had widened. The top of his feet felt like a solid plate of bone, and the bottom felt like tanned leather. His shins were as solid as iron.

His physique was gradually becoming more and more suited for martial arts. Unfortunately, however, the changes had slowed there, too, with the only noticeable difference being his continuous weight gain and muscular growth, but even that was slowing down.

It was the same with his strength in the gym. He could bench 155 kg, squat 281 kg, and deadlift 334 kg. It was an improvement compared to what he could do less than three weeks ago, but given how much he'd grown the three weeks before that, it wasn't as impressive a difference. In fact, most of it seemed to be from pure muscle growth.

Mark still easily tripled his numbers, which was ridiculous for a one-star arch.

But perhaps even more impressive than his strength was his endurance. He was a perpetual motion machine, slamming the tree endlessly without slowing down.

None of his moves were awe-inspiring. It was just plain low, mid, high, and straight strikes with a few basic variations. Even with his physique and training, martial artists who had trained against other people would still kick his ass.

But a heavenly tower would stand upon the foundation that he was building. Maybe. Hopefully. All he could do at that moment was place one stone at a time.

***

Given that he needed every damn shred of ether he could get a hold of, Freddy was gathering practically all the time. Mark was bewildered that he could handle so much meditative gathering. Soul fatigue was torturous, and his ability to handle it so well showed how much willpower he had built over the last two months.

While there was a large pool of water in the gym, that didn't mean that there were many wisps to gather. After all, he was far from the only water-affinity arch in the gym, and many used recovery techniques and such after sets, then gathered a bit to recover some lost essence.

This was a problem, but it wasn't a massive one. If he focused enough, he could pull water wisps from further away, gathering more from outside the building.

However, as some reached closer, they drifted to the side. He could only attract a portion of them into his soul, and the rest was lost to another gym member who just happened to be gathering at the same time.

Well, that's fucking annoying, he thought, sighing.

Suddenly, a deep voice came from behind him, "Hey buddy, how about you take a hike?"

He turned around, staring up at the bald man who appeared to be in his thirties, standing around a head taller than him, and although there was plenty of fat, it was undeniable that the man was a mountain of muscle.

"Is there a problem?" Mark asked the man.

"Yeah," the man confirmed, glaring at Freddy. "Boytoy over here is stealing my wisps."

He scowled. "The fuck did you just call me, fat ass?"

"Oh, you want it?" the man asked angrily, stepping forward.

"Whoa, whoa there, is there a problem?" This time, it was Steve who came to see what was happening.

The man turned to face the trainer and explained the situation. Steve merely raised an eyebrow and clarified, "Look, uh… You're Hilbert, right? It's uhm… We're in, uh… We're in a gym," he reminded, exaggeratedly waving a hand behind him. "This isn't a gathering ground. While some consider it rude, it's not illegal to yoink a few wisps that someone just happened to be going for. They're public property and free for anyone to take."

"Bu—"

"There are no buts," the trainer interrupted. "I don't care. Harassing other members is against the rules. I'm warning you; repeat this again, and I will revoke your membership."

After a few seconds of hesitation and yet another hostile glance at Freddy, the man scoffed and walked away.

"Don't be shy, Fred," Steve said with a pat on his shoulder. "If he causes trouble for you again, let me know." And then he also turned and left.

Mark was about to say something but was interrupted as Fred shot him a devious grin. "Mark… Marky. Darling."

"What?"

"What are the odds of that guy jumping me when I leave the gym?"

"Don't worry," Mark tried comforting him. "As long as I'm here, you—"

"No, no, no, don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm afraid of him…" he said leadingly.

"Freddy," Mark said with a roll of his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah, what's the problem?"

"That's just…" The man sighed. "You know, that's really not like you."

"What?" he asked.

"I've noticed that you've…" Mark said with some hesitation. "Look, confidence is a good thing, but don't let it go to your head."

"Dude," he said, shooting Mark an exasperated glance. "I was willing to let it go and be the bigger man, but no, this bastard comes in looking for a fight," he defended himself. "It wouldn't be my fault if he fucked around and found out."

"And you'll willingly walk into that?" the trainer asked him. "Really!? Why?"

"I've never been in a fight," he said. "Well, not since I was a kid. And I don't have any other way to get battle experience."

Mark rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "A street brawl like that wouldn't really count as 'battle experience.'"

"I disagree."

"Oh, really?" Mark spat, his exasperation morphing into genuine anger. "What if that man pulls a weapon on you? Even if he doesn't, you—"

"You really think I'm going to die?"

"Do you think you're…?" Mark started, then paused as he likely remembered that someone was watching Freddy. Whoever it was, they would intervene if the fight became life-threatening. "Still, it's dangerous."

"Because I could get injured?" he said mockingly.

"Okay, be honest with me—is this just because you want to fight that man?"

Freddy grinned in response.

"You know what, just do whatever you want, but please," Mark added, "don't get yourself kicked out of the gym."

"I have two witnesses that he is the instigator," he said confidently. "No matter what happens, he'll be the one to blame."

***

Freddy sauntered out of the gym.

It had been a while since he had been afraid of pain. And he still wasn't. But he had to be honest. Getting into a fight made him a bit jittery. It wasn't necessarily fear of getting hurt, but it was like… it would just be really embarrassing to get his ass kicked. Maybe it was his manly ego, but he couldn't deny that pride was on the line here.

Still, he resolved to go through it. If Mark's prediction was correct, bullshit like this could become a regular part of his life. Even if he got his ass handed to him, it could be worth it just for the experience.

But as he walked on, he realized the man was nowhere to be seen. He had seen the man leaving the gym a while back, so it could be that he had either gotten bored of waiting or took Steve's warning seriously.

He glanced around, observing the people walking around him until he—

Wait.

This was out in public. Getting into a fight in broad daylight could result in someone calling the authorities.

Given that he was getting close to his building, he had to do something immediately if he wanted a fight. With a smooth movement, as if that had been his plan from the start, Freddy turned and walked into a tight alley between his building and the neighboring one.

It didn't take him long to cross it halfway, and once he did, he stopped and turned around.

Nobody seemed to be coming that way, and he moved to lean against the wall. Hiding in a back alley like this made him feel like some sort of hooligan, and perhaps it wouldn't be unfair to say that, at that moment, he genuinely was being a hooligan.

His idle thoughts were finally interrupted as the burly man, or rather, Hilbert walked into the alley.

"Hilbert, is it?" he called, putting his hands into his pockets and desperately regretting that he wasn't holding a cigarette he could dramatically flick aside.

Rather than say anything, the man just walked toward him, approaching him as if he were heading to throw out the trash. Although the man's confidence was intimidating, he wouldn't leave this hubris unpunished.

The man strode forward, and as he stepped just before him, he immediately pulled his fist back and readied to throw a straight.

An attack that couldn't possibly be more straightforward.

Dodging a punch or getting out of the way was so much more challenging than he had ever expected, and he didn't even manage to raise his guard properly; instead, he took a giant fist directly to the face and tumbled back.

The man immediately rushed forward and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him further away. The sheer rush of adrenaline got him off the ground, and the man was taken aback. "Tough bastard," he spat.

Freddy wouldn't agree with that one. His face felt like it had been caved in, and he felt like his internal organs had been rearranged. At that moment, he thought that perhaps getting into a fight with someone twice his size wasn't his brightest idea.

The man rushed forward again, and he hesitated once more. There was an opening under the man's wide swing, and nothing defended the man from retaliation besides his relative size and reach.

As long as he threw an uppercut at the man's face or kicked at his stomach before the punch landed, his target couldn't defend himself. So he tried to go in, activating Flowing Strike. His fist landed on the man's face, but presented with a moving target, he mistimed his ability and lost almost all the force.

His preemptive attack ultimately failed to stop the man from swinging again at him, and, this time, through sheer panic, he raised his left arm to defend himself. The man's punch landed awkwardly, so he grabbed the arm to throw him aside.

But before the man could do that, Freddy panicked again, swinging a wild haymaker with Flowing Strike right at Hilbert's face, who didn't seem to be expecting him to be in a position to attack like that, so he had no time to react.

The Flowing Strike landed with a nasty crunching sound, and in the eyes of the completely disoriented Freddy, the man seemingly vanished out of sight. Glancing around, wondering through what magic this giant hunk of a man managed to disappear, he finally looked down, only to find his target unconscious on the ground. Only then did he register the influx of lifesteal and realize that he had accidentally landed a critical hit, knocking his opponent out with a single strike.

"Hahaha…" he laughed. "Hahahaha! Fuck you, asshole!" he yelled as he kicked the man in the stomach and stepped back. His face and neck hurt like hell, and he brought a hand to touch his nose.

It was utterly shattered, and he was bleeding so much that he felt lightheaded. "Shit…" he whispered.

Rather than wait for the mountain of muscle to get up, he prepared to run away, but something unusual happened suddenly—an unexpected rush of essence flowed into his soul, and it wasn't a small amount, either.

He couldn't stop his gaze from drifting back to the body on the ground.

As it did, his breath caught in his throat.

The head was turned at an odd angle.

Freddy's breath released, but it was shallow.

There was a dark blue patch on the neck, and it seemed to be spreading rapidly.

His hands shook, and he couldn't stop his left palm from rushing to his mouth. "This… It can't be… With just that…?"

Suddenly, a figure almost too fast for him to see fluttered down from above and picked up the man, only to vanish into thin air.

"Wait!" he yelled, stumbling forward. "Is he…? Oh, God." His breaths came faster and shorter. "Oh my God."

He pulled his shirt over his bloody head, hiding his face, and rushed out of the alley. He was right next to his building, so it didn't take long for him to run in and reach his apartment. As he did, he locked the door behind him and immediately rushed to his kitchen.

The mass of flesh lay on the ground nearby, and he grabbed the knife to take a stab at it. But as he saw the blade in his hands, he couldn't keep hold of it, and it soon fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground.

His breathing grew even more difficult as blood rushed and pooled in his nasal cavity, and he found himself coughing it out, his vision turning blurry. With all he could muster, he gripped the kitchen knife and stabbed.

It was hesitantly at first, but the soothing sensation overpowered his reluctance, and he continued striking at it in a daze. He didn't know how long had passed, but he had calmed down somewhat and was already fully healed.

Sitting on the ground, sweaty, covered in blood, and holding a knife, he whispered, "I… I'm a murderer."