1% Lifesteal

Stephen woke up as his alarm went off—a sound of chirping birds accompanied by a faintly glowing orange light illuminating his room, simulating the lighting of a beautiful sunrise. His living quarters were predominantly an elegant white, accented by a few shades of gray, mainly to make the expensive Cloudego-brand furniture pop out. His room had fake window screens of shifting light that mimicked a time of day, currently shining Morning's Optimism—the setting he enjoyed the most.

As he woke up and entered the large dining room, a warm breakfast was already waiting for him, and the servants were out of sight, as they should be. Fried bacon, sunny-side-up eggs, and some waffles on the side made for a meal deeply reminiscent of home. A home he hated dearly. But the breakfast was still there, a daily reminder of how far he'd come in life.

So he ate, washed up, donned his Jackal suit, a refined black set, and headed into the Camp Violet administrative staff residential facility hallway.

On the left side were doors to more rooms, while on the right side, at least in the section he lived in, was a one-way window stretching down the length of the path, disguised as nothing more than stone from the outside, watching over the length and width of the camp below.

He couldn't help but pause as he took a glance. A satisfied smile perked up on his lips at the sight of the worker ants.

Well, then, he'd better hurry to make it in time for the meeting.

As he strode into the meeting room, he arrived first, as usual. Being anything less than half an hour early meant being late by his standards—and that went doubly so for the boss.

One by one, the administration members strode in.

Kayla, the tall Black woman working as the acquisitions director, was the first to arrive, sitting three seats to his left. They exchanged polite nods and idly chatted about the horrid living conditions.

The park—a designated area with a generation-seven fabricated sky projector and carefully designed flora—wouldn't be finished for another three weeks! It had been months since any of them had seen the outside world, and it was driving them insane.

Stephen had found a way to cope by spending extra time in the sensory deprivation chamber and the massage parlor, but his shoulders grew stiffer by the day. Kayla also said something about some hobby or something, but he hadn't been paying attention.

Next, John, their skinny, meek accountant, arrived, followed by Marcus, Sven, Leah, Harry, Liam, and Bertram. All nine staff members gathered around the table, and the meeting started.

The first topic of that day was the recent slump in productivity and what they could do about it. A few unfortunate issues, such as their previous cook who prepared the worker's meals refusing to extend his contract and an unexpected drop in herb collection, which made basic healing ointments and other productivity-boosting products more difficult to produce, were only some of the theorized reasons behind the sudden reduction in revenue.

There had been a forecast of increased productivity due to the arrival of newer, more efficient equipment and better bags of holding, which made the situation even more complicated.

After that, they briefly discussed the recent news in transportation. Due to a recently developed hovering mechanism, newer cargo ships could operate at twenty percent less cost. There were many resources they were merely keeping stored for the time being, as their transportation would spell a net loss for the company, so this was excellent news.

Some more Starhold development updates were briefly discussed, and relevant information from sister camps, such as the female-only Camp Aquamarine, was covered, too.

Then, the miscellaneous topics began, where any member could suggest a subject.

Stephen hated this part but did his best to humor the suggestions. More often than not, it was some trivial malarkey that these goons brought forth to feel important.

But as he grabbed a paper from Liam, the short, chubby man who worked as the head of the alchemy department, he was stunned.

Squinting at the report and frowning at the man who had handed it to him, he read aloud, "Staff Member: Observer Peter Vane; Notable Worker Activity Report. Subject: Freddy Stern. Report summary: After a bout at the designated combat arena where Subject displayed notable proficiency, he was spotted running deeper into the Wastes red zone. Escape motive likely to be fear of staff action in response to his combat performance…?" After reading it out loud, it didn't seem any less silly. "Say," he said, turning to Liam, "why exactly are you suggesting this as a topic?"

"W-Well, uhm…" Liam stuttered, speaking rather quickly. "I… uh… The worker mentioned… in that report is a… He is a very notable individual am-among the workforce. Has the third highest earnings record for a monthly period… uhm… and in foraging, at that, and the only reason he didn't get the first place was because he was attacked by an organized group of rebels and subsequently reduced his work time to a minimum," he spluttered, pausing to take a breath. "He was likely attacked due to the perceived 'special privileges' he received from the—"

"Get to the point, Liam," Stephen interrupted with a smile. "We don't have all day."

"Yes, uh…" The man paused to gather himself. "I believe we should send a mercenary group after him."

"Why?" he asked, putting the paper down on the desk. "Recruiting someone for the mercenary department isn't meeting material."

"Actually, that's precisely why I'm bringing it up," Liam said, regaining a bit of his confidence. "I don't think this man should be recruited with the mercenary department. This man was a pretty no-notable source of high-quality herbs crucial in the production of several medicines, and I believe that his absence played a role in the recent slump. With how mu-much he could supply, we were planning to make some of the muscle fatigue–alleviating medicine and the localized healing skin cream available for purchase through temporary quota credit, which would—"

"Yeah, but I don't understand," he cut the man off, pinching his brow. "As far as we know, he isn't even missing. He just ran out into the caverns. This report is from a few hours ago."

"Still, I-I believe that checking u-up on him would be a wise choice," Liam stubbornly continued. "That man's performance in the arena wa-was ex-examplary. He had clearly been training for self-defense reasons, and he mi-might now fear retribution. If we can ease his fears, he'll be a valuable asset. If anything, I want hi-him to share what method he used to gather healthy herbs wi-with such precision and consistency. And, gi-given the numbers he was told to be earning, I wouldn't be surprised if he signed a-an extension to his work contract and decided to stay even af-after expiring."

"Hmmm… I see," he said, nodding slightly, a bit irked that this seemed to actually be a somewhat valid topic. "What about the combat prowess?" he asked.

"Oh… right," Liam said, shuffling some papers as he looked through them. "The se-seven observes p-present, including the aforementioned P-Peter Vane ha-have estimated him to be… elite in power and unknown in skill."

"Elite in power?" several members asked at once and then turned to each other, whispering.

"Wait!" Harry, the tall man with long, curly hair and the head of the transport department, exclaimed. "Isn't this the highest-classification guy!?"

"Yes, he is," Liam confirmed. "But th-that is irrelevant. He has uh… He has been c-cleared for regular treatment, so h-he isn't dangerous."

"Are you sure about that?" Marcus, the muscular chief security officer, added, speaking for the first time in the meeting. "He showed elite power in a Wastes match. I've seen the detailed report; his opponent was Lance Fetter, a man commonly referred to as 'Skull Crusher' in the arena. While Mr. Fetter isn't a particularly impressive warrior past his large build and above-average strength and toughness, Mr. Stern sent him flying like a damn ragdoll."

"What are you trying to say?" Stephen asked.

"I think he's afraid for a reason," the bulky man said. "Making an example out of him only makes sense."

From a corner, a brunette woman with large glasses raised her hand.

"You may speak, Leah," Stephen permitted.

"I do not believe," she started in a high-pitched voice, "that Mr. Stern will be a problem. According to his previously observed behavior, he has shown antisocial tendencies but hasn't been observed to be rebellious. If anything, he has shown himself to be rather non-conspiratorial in nature."

"That just means he's smart," Marcus said, scoffing. "Let me ask you all something. Not even we are allowed to know why this man is here. But do you really think that someone involved in a 'highest-classification' ordeal, who arrived looking like that, then proceeded to make a near-perfect recovery while excelling in combat and foraging is just some regular guy?" he asked, frowning at them. "We were warned to keep an eye out for any individuals that might exhibit unusual characteristics. Do I need to remind you all that this person was recently involved in an attack by six individuals, and he routed three, mortally wounded two, and killed one?" he said, leaving the others in contemplative silence.

Before anyone could respond, he shifted in his chair, grabbed a piece of paper, and continued, "You know, I've been watching this guy for a while. I was going to mention him one of these days anyway. Apparently, he has been practically living somewhere in the caverns."

That elicited a few shocked gasps.

Bertram, the oldest-looking among them, the head of Human Resources, raised his hand. "I've been in contact with Marcus about this subject," he said, getting everyone's attention. "That man hasn't been eating or sleeping on camp, meaning he has been living rather self-sufficiently. If this was merely due to paranoia from having been attacked, it wouldn't be a detail of consequence. But judging by his physical condition, he isn't struggling."

"My point exactly," Marcus said. "Thank you, Bertram. This is the main reason why I've been keeping an eye on him. If that man has the resourcefulness to live outside of camp, he could become a giant pain in the ass in the blink of an eye. He's been cleared for regular treatment, so he's also been cleared for elimination. I say we deal with him immediately."

"Whoa!" Liam half-yelled as he got up. "That's a b-bit of a l-leap, don't you think!?"

"Calm down," Stephen said. "Marcus, Liam, please. We're in a professional setting. Your opinions have been noted. If none of you have anything else to add, it will be put up for a vote."

Nobody raised their hands.

So he continued, "All right then. All wanting to put an option to a vote, please raise your hands."

Liam and Marcus raised their hands.

"Liam, present first."

The short man got up and said, "I-I believe we should a-approach M-Mr. Stern amicably and t-try to con-convince him that he i-isn't in danger."

"Suggestion noted. Marcus, you're up."

The burly man rose and said, "Send a kill squad."

"Noted. I'd also like to add a third option myself," he said, getting up. "I say we send a squad after him with priority on capture rather than elimination. Once he has been apprehended, we can take it from there and see whether he is up for making a deal with us." He sat back down. "Those in favor of Liam's suggestion, please raise your hands."

Only Liam's arm rose into the air.

"Those in favor of Marcus's suggestion, please raise your hands."

Marcus and Bertram cast their vote.

"All those in favor of my suggestion, please raise your hands."

Everyone else joined his own arm in the air, and he barely concealed a smirk. "Very well then. Marcus, please…

"File the request immediately."

***

Freddy sat in a pile of growth, wearing his camouflaged uniform. Peter soon arrived from a nearby cave and stood in the middle of the space before him.

He took a long moment to confirm that nobody was following the silver-haired man, and once he did, he finally left the bush and revealed himself.

The staff member handed him a paper, and he looked at it.

It was a stamped copy of an official report claiming that Peter had witnessed him running away into the Wastes. Good. The man delivered on his promise and sent the dogs down the wrong trail.

"Hey Peter," he called, not even raising his eyes off the report as he casually shared, "I know the location of a unique blood remnant that the Kraven patriarch wants to get his hands on."

The man's facial expression instantly darkened, and he asked with a shiver in his voice, "Why… Why would you tell me that?"

Freddy stared him right in the eyes with a casual smirk as he winked and said, "Now that you know something you're not supposed to know, you won't be sharing your involvement with me any time soon. Sorry, mate, nothing personal. I just want to make sure you don't stab me in the back."

Peter bit his lower lip and nodded, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"So," he said as he handed him the copy of the report, "how about we discuss the details?"

Thus, the two men sat down.

Peter started. "On top of my observation, I work in the storage facility in the alchemical products department. I could possibly sneak you into a transportation box that would take you into Starhold, but once you get there, you'd have to somehow escape the warehouse and… dodge the security check."

He stared at the man pointedly. "What?" he asked.

"That's my plan," Peter said.

"And?"

Frowning, Peter asked, "And what?"

"That's all you have?" he asked incredulously.

"For now, yes."

As if magnetically attracted to one another, the palm of his hand met his forehead in one of the loudest facepalms he had ever made in his life. "Peter," he said. "No offense, but that's a really stupid idea."

The man deflated. "I understand that this isn't likely to work. But this place isn't called an inescapable prison for no reason," he said. "It will take me some time to develop a more legitimate plan."

"And what am I supposed to do until then?"

"Until then?" Peter asked. "You should hide."

***

On the edge of the Wastes, three people stood side by side at a lesser-known entrance. On the left was a woman of average height wearing thick steel armor, her hair concealed beneath a practical, simple helmet. Her equipment shone with a polished sheen and formed an elegant, functional, stylish, and modern design that openly flexed every penny it cost. Her weapon was a long axe with a tzenekite-imbued steel axe head and a synthetic carbon-hennezium handle.

On the right was another woman, over a head taller, dressed in slightly less heavy armor that permitted more flexibility, with a greater focus on synthetic material made to allow a greater range of movement and more speed. At her hip was a saber made of a hard, crystalline material called fertren, which could resist chipping even under direct impact with another blade.

And in the middle was a black-haired man shorter than his two companions. He had no armor, as it got in the way of his talent and fire-affinity abilities, so standing in his loose black shirt, protective glasses, and without any headgear, he looked the least imposing of the three.

"Get a move on it," the tall woman, or, rather, Hellen, said to the other two as she strode forward.

The other two followed. After walking a short while, the other woman, Jenny, groaned, "I freaking hate going into this place. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"What do you think made the Wastes?" Joshua asked. "Last I heard, most of it was explored, and nothing of note was found."

"Maybe like…" she pondered, "alien termites?"

"Focus on the mission, you two," Hellen warned, "and stop blabbering. You'll alert the target of our presence. Josh, keep your eyes peeled. Any heat signatures are designated as foes by default."

"Aight, captain," he said somewhat sarcastically.

They made their way through the caves, finding nothing of note. As they went, Joshua looked increasingly more disturbed.

"What's up, Joshua?" Jenny asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "It's just unusual to see no heat signatures of any kind anywhere. I feel like I'm blind. This place is weird."

They strode through open caverns and dove into tight passageways, finding nothing of note. There weren't even any passages, which was the weirdest part. What on earth could have prevented even them from appearing?

Eventually, they reached a dead end. Just as they were about to turn around and head down a different path, Joshua exclaimed, "Wait!"

The other two turned to face him.

"What is it?" Hellen asked.

"Look up there!" he directed with a point of his finger aimed at the spot he was looking at.

They both turned to where he was pointing but found nothing.

"Are you okay?" Hellen asked, no humor in her tone.

"Yeah, uh… Sorry, I forgot you guys can't see heat, just," he said, pointing at a section of the ceiling, "that part of the wall up there is cold. Much colder than its surroundings."

"Is that… bad?" Jenny asked.

He breathed in and half-turned to face them. "Well, I don't know," he admitted, "but that probably means there is a passage up there, just behind the wall. That's the only explanation I have."

"So uh…" Jenny started. "Get the fuck out and report?"

"We are contractually obligated to check any passages we encounter for immediate danger," Hellen reminded, "so that's exactly what we're going to do."

"I…" Joshua said. "I really… really don't like this, guys. I don't know; something about this is really triggering my instincts. I think Jenny might be right."

Hellen turned to him, and he could feel her frown even through her face protection.

"We are going to be penalized for ignoring this if we turn around," she said. "You feel free to leave, but I have no interest in letting cowardice cost me a paycheck."

"There is no proof that we've been here," Joshua begged. "Besides, that thing is buried behind a wall. We keep things quiet and walk away. Please."

"I told you," she repeated. "Feel free to leave."

With awkward glances at each other, Jenny and Joshua caved in and stepped forward.

The two women were both earth-affinity archs, so they, through a collaborative effort, manipulated the nearby stone into forming a set of stairs that took them up to the frigid patch of rock. With a few swings of the flat side of her axe, Jenny broke through the wall and revealed a small, empty space—

And a circular, meter-wide passage on the ceiling, glowing with a murky, gray light.

There was something off about it, and even Hellen could feel it. But they had already staked their pride on entering, so rather than following their guts, they made their way up, crouching through the tiny space until they reached their destination.

Hellen made her way up first, followed by Jenny, and finally Joshua.

"Holy…" Jenny whispered.

The sky was a monotone gray mist, and the floor was made of gigantic, square stone tiles at least ten meters wide. And that was it. The empty, featureless sky and the recurring flooring stretched endlessly in all directions. Dizzyingly far. More than even the mind-bogglingly vast horizons of Faralethal's surface.

The three of them swallowed as one.

"All right…" Hellen said cautiously. "I see what you were talking about. I don't see anything. Check the Netherecho."

Joshua closed his eyes. But then he opened them again. "I…" he whispered as his eyes dulled and turned to his two companions. "Yes," he agreed to something, "I do want that…"

"Josh?" Hellen asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Jenny, check the Netherecho."

"I—"

"I said check the Netherecho!" she screamed out, and the other woman obeyed reluctantly.

And as soon as she did, she started screaming. Her voice grew coarse from how loudly she was yelling, and she clawed at her body, trying to peel something away while screaming, "Get away from me! Get awa—"

Suddenly, Joshua's arm flew out and grabbed Hellen by her neck, displaying a strength that bent the synthetic material protecting her as he squeezed and pulled her down.

His eyes stared directly into hers, and she watched his pupils turn into an eerie square shape.

"Who are you, woman?" he asked softly in a strange accent, and she reached for her saber but found moving her arm nearly impossible as something grabbed it. Was it an invisible spirit?

Jenny was still screaming bloody murder, and Hellen, unable to do anything, dove into the Netherecho in a last-ditch attempt to find out what was happening.

And then she went limp, her eyes twisting into a square shape all the same as Joshua's did.

"Ah, I see," he said. "A comrade."

The being possessing Hellen's body ripped his arm out of the clutch around her neck and spat. "You have assisted me," it said, "so I will humor your companionship until we discover where we are."

As Jenny finally calmed herself and tried getting up, her two companions turned to her.

Square eyes watching, piercing deep into her soul.