1% Lifesteal

Freddy appeared back in reality, and the first thing he did was the most rational thing he could think of— "Holy fucking shit!" he freaked out. "Jesus Christ! Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew—"

So that was what the book meant when it mentioned therapy. Crap like that existed everywhere around him!? And how was he supposed to sleep at night knowing that creepy bullshit like that was hiding behind his garbage can!?

And the whispering under his bed…

Oh, God, is that another abomination?

He got off the bed and kicked at the air apprehensively, fearing that he might touch something invisible. After finally confirming what was relatively common sense, or rather, that he couldn't feel anything that lived within the Netherecho, he finally calmed down.

There wasn't a real need to enter the Netherecho within his apartment. Low-level wild vestiges appeared everywhere, so he could just go to the park or something when he needed to find some.

But… why!? Couldn't it be like cute kittens or something? Did it have to be a bloody skeleton!?

He groaned in displeasure as he plopped back onto his bed. Screw therapy. He should get an exterminator or—

"Please," something whispered into his ear, "come back."

"Oh, fucking—" He jumped off the bed, heart beating wildly. Did he just imagine that? He must have.

"Oh, please tell me I just imagined that…! Please…" he begged as he stood frozen, waiting for something to happen. "Oh, thank God—"

"Please… Master."

"Oh fuck fuck fuckity shit, it's climbing on top of me!" he yelled as he waved his hands sporadically, trying to slap an invisible skeleton out of the air.

Freddy took his shirt off and threw it to the corner of the room, then he moved behind the trash can, using the garbage bin as a shield against the creepy thing.

As he stood there, frozen, he couldn't see anything anywhere. In this situation, the best thing to do would be to just run and look for someone to help him. But what if that thing was still crawling somewhere on his body?

That didn't matter—it shouldn't, but it did! There was clearly something abnormal about this creature. For some reason, it could affect reality outside the Netherecho.

If it was still latched onto him, and if it decided to attack him, who could say that it couldn't hurt him? He most certainly didn't know. But… if it could affect him, then maybe he could also affect it. As long as he could confirm where it was and if it was still on his body, he could throw it off before running away.

Okay, Freddy, in and out, he thought. Just in and out. Enter that place, and leave it instantly when you confirm where it is. Okay? Got it? Good.

Since he had entered it twice, appearing within his ethercosm was relatively easy. And this time, he didn't even need to imagine a door since he already knew what it felt like. Given that he was standing upright, with some deliberation, he ensured that his projection would appear on top of his head, where he was most likely to be safe. Hopefully, at least.

Pushing his anxiety aside, he focused on the door. In and out. In and out. With a thought, he appeared inside and—

A sudden burst of numbness spread through his side as the world spun around him; a powerful jet of water struck his projection, and he flew at the wall, slammed into it with a wet splash, and plummeted to the ground behind his garbage can.

What… just happened?

He couldn't move, and his connection to reality felt distant, flickering with flashes of soul-rending cold. Why couldn't he move? Barely managing to shift his head, he looked at the body of his projection. There was a massive hole right in the middle of his torso, and what looked like floating streams of paint were liberally leaving his projection.

"Waaah!" the glass ball vestige wailed from the top of the fridge, the liquid sloshing within. "You brought it back here! You stupid stupid stupid! Waaah!"

Ah… I see.

Barely lifting his tiny head, he looked at the garbage can. A moment later, the bloody, dripping head of a skeleton peeked from behind it, its empty eye sockets boring another set of holes in his projection. Was this the end…?

"No… please," he begged, his weak voice sounding frail and distant, with hints of indistinct buzzing to it. "I haven't done anything yet," he argued. "I just got my chance. Please. Please don't kill me."

The crimson skull apparition gazed upon him, its size towering over his limp, flickering form. Its eyes shone with a cold, crimson light. Its maw opened with a clicky, snappy growl as it reeled in fury. But rather than direct that at him, it turned to face the glassy orb on the fridge.

"What are you looking at!?" the glass orb vestige spat, sending a jet of water that washed over the skeleton without causing harm. "Waaaaah! You're scary! I don't like you!" it proclaimed.

Then, the skeleton slowly began walking toward the fridge and climbing it. It wasn't long until it forced its way up, and when it did—

It grabbed the glassy orb vestige like a ball and lifted it into the air. It cried, yelling at the skeleton to make it stop, but it was too late. The massive bloody bone man repeatedly slammed it into the fridge, cracking its body until it shattered and dissipated into motes of flowing blue patches of color. Then, the bloody thing grabbed a fistful of those motes, jumped back down, and walked over to him.

Once it approached him, it somewhat forcefully shoved the wisps at his projection, like it was almost trying to seal the gaping hole in his chest. As soon as those motes touched him, he mustered the tiniest shred of willpower—all he could manage—and absorbed it into his body.

His projection rapidly recovered from the damage it had suffered, and he felt a change occur. The pure, unblemished white of his star morphed, adopting the splotchy blue color that rapidly became the primary hue of his core.

The instant his projection recovered, he rushed past the skeleton, touched his body, returned to the real world, jumped over the trash can, and ran to get out of the apartment.

However, as his hand rested on the doorknob, he felt it shaking. Sweat poured down his body, and the thundering sound of his heart hammering away echoed in his ears like drums of war. Grunting in effort, he tried to force himself to open the door and just leave, but—

"Shit!" he yelled as he once again returned to Netherecho, this time standing on his left shoulder, where he could use his head as a shield if any of the other vestiges tried anything.

The skeleton stood below his body, reaching for the nondescript, gray form that represented his legs.

He threateningly waved his hands at it and screamed. "No! Bad skeleton! Get off me immediately!" he ordered.

Despite being the one to dish out the command, he was still surprised when the thing nodded, obediently released its grip, and began walking back away.

"This can't be happening…" he whispered.

Why was this thing listening to him? And why did it save his life?

Regarding vestiges, they weren't genuinely conscious and didn't have what one could call "free will." They acted obsessively, latching onto an idea and following that concept with every action they took. And for this bloody skeleton, following him had become its paradigm.

Wisps were the lowest natural form of ether construct, and once enough gathered, they formed a vestige. Vestiges could grow in power to become remnants, and those could eventually become spirits and, finally, eidolons.

Judging by its size and power, this thing wasn't a vestige. It was a remnant. They were supposed to be pretty damn rare and were only meant to appear in extremely ether-dense environments. So… why did one appear in his apartment?

His mind suddenly made the connection. Could this be related to the incident?

"The clothes!" he exclaimed, facing the garbage can. Indeed. Plenty of blood had been pooled there just a day ago. Monster blood at that.

Either way, there was a more important thing to consider. Personified ether constructs, in any of their forms, always told the truth if asked. So ask it, he would. "You," he called. "Do you… Do you have any intention of killing me?" he started with the most pressing matter.

"No," it denied. "Absolutely not, my lord."

Did that thing just refer to me as "my lord?"

"All right then… uh…" His mind rushed as he tried to think of what to ask next. "Why are you following me?"

It shifted its empty eye sockets up at him. "I am bloodshed," it declared. "And you are the one who sheds blood. I am convinced you are fated to bathe the universe in red, my everything."

"Huh?" he blurted out, utterly bewildered by its words.

"Through bloodshed, you rejected death," it decreed. "You traded peaceful prosperity for the uncertainty of violence," it reminded him. "Be it fortune, fate, or overwhelming power, nothing can stop you from heading down the path of bloodshed."

Well… if all that he knew about himself were the last few days of his life, even he'd jump to some conclusions. He wasn't done asking it questions, but no matter how he phrased it, this being didn't seem to have any ill intent toward him. It was quite the opposite, actually. If anything, it worshiped him.

Leaving him with an important decision—what exactly should he do? If he tried contacting authorities, he was confident they would get rid of it for free. Hell, he might even get paid for it. But was that worth it?

No, a better question was whether that was the smart thing to do. This was a remnant, meaning all it had said so far was the truth; anything less was impossible, as dictated by the very nature of a sentient ether construct.

Before jumping to any rash decisions, he wanted to see this thing in action. "My… uh… minion! Yes! I give you a command!"

It bowed to him. "Anything, Your Grace."

Freddy glanced around. "Get rid of all the other vestiges in this room!"

"As you wish."

The bloody skeleton ponderously trod toward the chest. It grabbed the ledge and slowly pulled itself up.

"Secrets! You are here for my secrets! Well, I can always appreciate a seeker of—" Before the chubby vestige could finish its sentence, the bloody skeleton balled its fist and smashed its head from above, cracking its skull, which immediately began unraveling into wisps. And then again. And again.

The fourth strike shattered the wrinkled phantom's body into bits, and the chubby ether construct dissipated into a small cloud of colorful wisps.

Vestiges were tied to certain, specific concepts. And such concepts, more often than not, had an affinity for several different elements. This creature seemed to have been made of wood and metal ether, and the appropriate metallic and wooden splotches of color drifted away from where it stood.

The skeleton descended from the chest and walked over to the window.

"You cretin!" the glass panel assaulted. "Be you an ally of the searing—" Yet again, before the creature could finish, the skeleton jumped up, grabbed its leg, and pulled it down, smashing it into the floor and crushing it to pieces.

The vestige shattered into splotches of glassy, transparent stains and particles of flickering light.

"We must hurry! It is soon time—" The vestige that looked like a cartoony clock was picked up and repeatedly smashed against the wall, eventually shattering into wisps of metal and crystal.

And finally, the skeleton bent down to reach under the bed.

It pulled out what appeared to be a tiny boogeyman—a dark vestige with a terrifying outward appearance. It slashed and swung its claws at the bloody skeleton, being the only one that had even put up a fight. But it was futile.

The skeleton opened its maw, far wider than he expected it to be able to, and bit the tiny creature's head off, dissipating it into fluttering splotches of darkness. "That is all of them, my liege."

This thing is freaking scary… but damn is it efficient, he thought.

"Ah, yeah… g-good job, uh…"

Should he name the skeleton?

Before he could decide on anything, it turned and looked at him. "Bloodshed. I am bloodshed, so you can call me Bloodshed," it introduced itself. Then it cocked its skull. "Unless you wish to name me something else?"

"Uh, no, uhm… Bloodshed is fine," his voice cracked, apparently still capable of doing so even when he was in his projection. He coughed. "Quite the lovely name, really, has very… uhm… It's charming," he eked out nervously. "Yeah, now, uh…" He pondered what to do.

Should he make a… corner for this thing? Maybe buy a dog bed? Or just shove it under his bed? Ah, no, he might as well cuddle it to sleep every night!

Yeah. No way. Even if he were a 100 percent certain that it wanted to cause him no harm, there was no fucking way he could fall asleep with it in his room. So, he thought about it a bit and eventually landed on a conclusion. There were most certainly no archs in this building other than him, but even if one appeared by some miracle, he doubted they would have any reason to check the Netherecho. This meant he could hide this thing wherever he wanted.

Putting it in the middle of the hallway was definitely unwise, though, and on the off-chance that someone actually did check the Netherecho, he'd rather not be hiding skeletons right in front of his door.

Locking it in the chest in his room wouldn't work. "Objects," or rather, their representation within the Netherecho, unless made of a special material, were a temporary barrier at most to personified ether constructs.

Well, then… The toilet was… No. Just no. What about the storage room on the first floor? He pondered that. Well, it was as fine an option as he could think of. Now, there was only the question of convincing the skeleton. Maybe he could bait it outside somehow?

"Hey, uh… Bloodshed?"

"What is it, my lord?"

"You know this apartment…" he started, contemplating how to phrase his offer. "It's kind of tiny and suffocating and all that. Wouldn't you want to be somewhere else?" he asked respectfully.

"My liege, whatever you wish, say it. I will simply obey." It cut right to the chase, almost as if it could see the web of bullshit he was trying to weave.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, moderately perturbed at this thing's ability to read his intentions. "Well, uh… okay then! Follow me." And with that, he left the Netherecho.

Once he appeared in the real world, he opened the door and waited for the slow skeleton to move outside.

A woman walked through the hallway, the same person he had accidentally jumpscared the other day, and she shot him a half-terrified-half-concerned glance as she walked so fast she nearly jogged down the stairs.

At this point, he realized he was standing half-naked with a somewhat shell-shocked expression, holding his door open for no apparent reason.

Pfft! So judgmental! I'm just taking my invisible pet skeleton, Bloodshed, out for a walk! People nowadays, seriously…

But yeah, he should probably at least put his shirt back on.

As he guided the skeleton, he left and reentered the Netherecho several times, and before long, they were inside the storage room on the ground floor of the building.

It was a small, dingy space filled with old boxes piled on rotting shelves. There was nothing of value here; it was mostly filled with half-garbage, the type of stuff people didn't want to throw away but also wouldn't mind having stolen if it happened.

A few empty boxes lay around, and an idea flashed in his mind. "Hey, Bloodshed. Can you get inside that box over there?"

The skeleton obeyed, and he returned to reality, moving the box from where it stood to the other side of the room. Once he returned to the Netherecho, he discovered that Bloodshed was still in the cardboard container.

"Huh… Neat." For a second, he had thought that the skeleton would simply stay where it was if he moved the box, but through whatever Netherecho fuckery was at play, that didn't happen.

He wondered what would happen if he crushed the box with the remnant in there, but that was an experiment for another day, and with something he didn't mind getting squashed.

"Hey, Bloodshed," he called, now back in the Netherecho. "Do you mind staying inside this box?"

It again looked up at him with those creepy, empty eye sockets and muttered, "Anything you wish."

"All right then! That suits me just fine."

He closed the box, taping it shut. Then he located an old marker, wrote fragile on the side and top, and put it on one of the shelves in a far corner.

And with that, he returned to his apartment and dropped to his bed. He chuckled. Then, he cackled vociferously. "Holy shit," he said, "what even is my life anymore!?"

In a few very eventful days, he had gone from a run-of-the-mill cashier to an arch who had tamed a remnant! It felt so surreal that he didn't know what to do anymore.

The longer this continued, the more he craved confirmation that this was real and that he wasn't on some acid trip. Lying on the bed, he couldn't stop chuckling. His heartbeat sped up, and he felt himself breathing uncontrollably, but he couldn't stop laughing.

This is nothing, he thought to himself as he grabbed his shaking hand… He was just very excited. No, he couldn't wait to continue! So, without hesitation, he returned to the Netherecho again.

The desire to laugh still persisted, but he felt it gradually weaken in his projection. Well, that made for a quick and easy way to calm down, at least. He looked around.

His room was now filled to the brim with countless specks of floating color.

There were several ways to gather. He could sit and focus on thinking about water-related stuff, and eventually, he could vaguely sense any nearby water wisps and then slowly attract them to his body.

This was the go-to method for proper gathering. But he was too weak to do that for the time being. So he resorted to another, far more hands-on and usually much slower method—doing it manually.

One water wisp was flowing through the air to his side, and he reached to grab it. The moment he touched it, it required nearly no effort to absorb into his body.

"Hmm…" he hummed, focusing on the sensation the action produced.

While he had little frame of reference, he could tell that it hadn't been very… satisfying? Fulfilling? He wondered what to compare the feeling to. Given that it was a water wisp… well… if he were thirsty, the wisp he had just absorbed would be the equivalent of licking a drop of dew off a blade of grass. Maybe even less than that.

And there weren't all that many of them around, either. While the space inside his apartment was positively booming with wisps, water was in the minority. But, he didn't need to focus on only them. Approaching a fluttering patch of darkness, he restrained it, gripping it with both of his little hands. Once he finally applied enough force, the wisp shattered, dissipating into ethereal, white particles, most of which almost immediately disappeared.

A small portion, however, was absorbed directly into his projection. Crushing a wisp to turn it back into unattuned ether rewarded him with less than a tenth of the benefit, but with no alternatives, it was better than nothing.

Suddenly, a powerful force began pulling his projection back toward his body. No matter what he did, he felt powerless to resist it, and his legs moved on their own to return him to reality.

Once he returned, he heard knocking coming from his door, accompanied by the call of a man's voice. "Hello!? Anybody in there?"

He was still shaking in his bed, but he forced it down as he got up. Part of him wanted to ignore it, but he feared it might be important and was a little hopeful that the insurance company might have changed its mind.

The door swung open, and an onyx-haired man dressed in casual streetwear wearing a gray hoodie and black sweatpants greeted him. His eyes appeared somewhat snakey; something was vaguely off about his irises. Other than that, he was pretty attractive, and his pale skin was smoother than polished porcelain. "Hey there, kid!" he greeted cheerfully. "Are you perhaps Freddy Stern?"