1% Lifesteal

His instincts flared up. Every pore oozed sweat. His mind had yet to catch up, but his body was already preparing for a life-or-death scenario.

The vast, unnaturally blue sky and the gently swaying golden grass stretched so far into the horizon that the scale left him frozen. But his nose knew what it smelled. Past the comforting smell of earth and grass, there was a shade of danger—a fragrance he had met during a nasty workplace accident—it was the smell of blood.

The grass shifted.

"Ggegek!" a tiny creature called out in a strange tongue.

Wearing green, textured cloaks and wooden masks, miniature humanoids popped their heads above the grass. With the sounds of metal rubbing against cloth, shiny daggers appeared in their grip.

"Ggeheg!" another yelled.

"Ggonggi!" the one next to it replied.

It was at this point that it had become undeniable. "Oh God… it's a passage…" he breathed out in pure disbelief.

Another of these things appeared. It was uncomfortably close. His eyes met the two black holes where its eyes presumably were, and he maintained eye contact. Every second felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, the creature crouched and, with a loud thud, propelled itself toward him, and he barely dodged by throwing his body to the side. A metallic twang rang off the wall, and he turned, only to spot the creature struggling to extract its weapon from the brick it was stabbed into.

"This can't be happening…" he said as he rushed up.

It finally finished pulling its dagger out. Then, it turned to its brethren and yelled, "Gonggi ggon!"

A cacophony of cheering and battle cries made its way out of the passage.

He screamed and ran like mad, swinging the bag with the can of beans as he sprinted into the middle of the road, nearly tripping on one of the many potholes. The people in the streets turned their heads in the direction of the screaming lunatic.

Barely catching a breath, he managed to yell out, "Passage break! Run for your lives!"

Everyone was on their feet in moments.

A horde of tiny, humanoid creatures ran out from behind the building. The people screamed and ran, tripping over nothing as they scattered. The locked doors of buildings were pounded on over and over as the people begged to be let inside, away from the incoming danger.

For many, it was already too late.

The monsters pouring onto the streets were fast, frighteningly so. They dashed and landed on people within seconds, pulling tiny, nasty daggers from nowhere and cutting throats open, disemboweling with a single swift movement, and piercing hearts with lethal precision.

He saw a young woman's decapitated body drop dead to the ground, her blood pooling rapidly, and he whimpered, unable to get the gruesome picture out of his head.

A loud whoosh could be heard every few seconds, and a scream usually followed, if the victims could muster even that. Whenever those things did that supernaturally quick dash, it made an ominous sound, quickly becoming associated with a bloody scream immediately afterward.

His heartbeat hastened every time he heard that thud of death, and he felt his back tighten, expecting a blade to soon be embedded into it.

It sounded again.

And again.

And again.

The haunting thuds grew louder, and he couldn't help but turn around. One of the creatures had just finished stabbing an elderly man to death, and as he turned to face it, it sensed his gaze and met it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated as he madly dashed.

Breath ragged, legs on fire, he had no time to care; the pitter-patter of that thing's tiny feet grew louder in his ears until finally—

There was no time to think. Out of pure reflex, he swung the bag, and as he turned, he came mask to face with the creature flying at him, everything moving in slow motion as he watched the can of beans collide directly with the creature's head.

The impact burst the can and spilled its contents into the bag, which tore, sending a rain of legumes over the street and knocking the attacker away, sending its weapon clattering to the ground.

It was still alive, and as he watched it try to get up, he grabbed the jagged dagger before it could reach for it.

He leaped at the monster, fueled by more adrenaline than he'd ever experienced in his life, and stabbed the serrated weapon, which he gripped with both hands, into its back while screaming "Die, die, die!" like a maniac, ignoring its yelps of agony. The creature's body was as tough as tanned leather, but eventually, the green cloak became drenched, and the dagger went deeper and deeper, every subsequent swing squirting more blood over him. Eventually, it stopped moving.

As its life abandoned its tiny corpse, he felt something strange deep in his torso. It burned. Suddenly, he felt dizzy, and he nearly collapsed. Irregular shapes swirled in his vision, and noises and voices rang in his ears, saying something he couldn't understand as the searing-hot sensation became effervescent, sizzling and spreading through his body and numbing it. Just as he felt like he was about to lose consciousness, it popped like a bubble, and his vision cleared.

With the weapon in his left hand and the torn grocery bag in the other, he got up and sprinted away, leaving the corpse behind.

Several creatures appeared beside their mutilated comrade, and soon they turned their gazes to his back. "Ggehokk!?" one of them screamed. "Ggegge heggerrino ghoggiarra!"

"Ghoggiarra!" the others echoed.

"Oh no… Oh no, no, no." His steps quickened; the pitter-patter instantly followed, and just like before, he heard them catching up at a frightening speed.

His grip tightened around the dagger, and he wondered whether he should try to fight it out but instantly realized how stupid that would be. Yet he didn't let go of the weapon.

The adrenaline pushed his legs faster than he ever believed he could run; his gaze rapidly searched for any hope of escape, and soon, his eyes met a man wearing a fancy black suit.

Grasping onto the faint hope that it wasn't just some drunk partygoer, he screamed, "Help!" He nearly stumbled. "Help me!"

But the man suddenly vanished, and before he could see where, another thud sprang off the road behind him.

Once more, he turned around, betting on one final, wild swing. However, the moment his eyes turned behind his back, he knew it was already too late as he saw the creature nearly on top of him, dagger poised to—

Suddenly, a spear came flying out of nowhere, impaling the creature's throat and pinning it to a wall.

He tripped, dropping to the ground and tumbling away, nearly cutting himself on the dagger. The man he had seen just a moment ago appeared, and several others soon arrived beside him.

A burly man dressed in expensive, fashionable clothing ran in, swinging a furiously hot blade to cleave one of the invaders in half. Arrows soundlessly flew out of nowhere, striking the creatures with lethal precision. Some were killed instantly, and others were gruesomely wounded as they rushed to hide between the buildings.

A woman in a red dress, holding a massive hammer, jumped off the top of a building to pulverize one of the fleeing creatures into mush, turning around and following up with a smash to another's chest and a tomahawk kick to a third's skull. Another one of the monsters was just about to leap off the ground to jump at her, but a small patch of land beneath its foot spread open, trapping its leg within and turning it into a sitting duck for the hidden archer.

The spear wielder pulled his weapon out of the wall, freeing the cloaked creature's corpse, which tumbled to the ground.

The other two paused and hesitantly observed the man until one of them began yelling at him. "Ghoggiarra ggungi, gguggingo! Ggongi!"

"Revenge…?" the man asked with a chuckle, poising his weapon to strike. "It is you who are invading enemy territory, little one. Our retaliation is just."

The spear wielder dashed at speeds far greater than even the little creatures could manage and cleanly stabbed through their heads with rapid, snappy thrusts, leaving perfectly circular holes behind.

His savior turned around, and he tried thanking him but found his throat had seized up.

"Hello!" the man greeted him. "Please wait until we sort out the break. We'll need you for the witness report."

There was nothing he could say to that. The man ran around in the vicinity, gathering more terrified survivors.

Time flew by simultaneously, unnaturally slowly and unusually quickly. All he could remember were flashes of talking to someone else and seeing others crying and calling names that would likely soon appear in an obituary.

It just felt so surreal. Soon enough, he was broken out of the strange stupor, sitting on the street next to several others as men and women in uniforms gathered around the crowds.

One of them wrapped his body in a foil blanket, and he didn't understand why at first. Soon, he noticed the bone-chilling cold that filled his body and his almost wholly wet clothes. Sweat covered him from head to toe, and he was shivering uncontrollably. His hands were colder than he ever remembered them being.

Once it was his turn, the paramedic led him to a chair, where an officer told him to sit. They checked him for injuries and blared a light crystal into his eyes for some reason. They asked him a few general questions about his well-being, to which he either answered curtly or just nodded.

Suddenly, someone mentioned the word "insurance" somewhere in the background, and he perked up, immediately cured of his trauma. "Insurance? Where? Who?"

"Sir, are you all right?" The officer before him waved a hand before his face, and he slowly blinked at him.

"Huh?" he asked dumbly. "Ah, yes, I'm doing swell. I… I have a quick question, i-if you don't mind, of course."

The man raised an eyebrow but soon nodded.

"Brilliant, thanks. I just want to know real quick, do we get uhm… any form of…" He carefully picked his following words, "reimbursement for this horribly traumatizing event?"

The man shook his head. "I'm not a lawyer, kiddo. You'll have to check that later with someone."

A uniformed woman approached their position, and the officer turned to greet her, then back to him. He paused, turning to the woman again, and forwarded Freddy's question.

She thought about it for a moment. "I think yes. Wait." After turning to Freddy, she asked, "Are you a resident of this district or one directly neighboring it?"

"Yes!" he rushed to confirm. "I live in District 19!"

"Mmmm," the woman hummed with a shake of her head. "That's not directly neighboring," she declared.

"What!?" he spluttered. "You go directly from one to the other!"

"You cross through a small patch of District 19 first."

"That's bullshit!"

The man lifted a hand to soothe him. "Relax, sir, please. General insurance will still cover this," he comforted him. After that, he grabbed a pen and wrote something down on a notepad.

Freddy looked like he swallowed piss. He did not have insurance. Not even medical.

"Wait! I… I… I used to live here! And the border is so, so close. Does that not count!?" he spat with a strange shiver in his voice.

The officer didn't even raise his head. "Look, you can get a lawyer and take it to court. Maybe you have a case."

As if he could afford a lawyer. Tears pooled around his eyes upon hearing that. Sure, it was a traumatizing tragedy, but if payment were involved… well, he'd get over it.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, raising his head again. "Sorry, uhm, I… I also killed! Yes! I killed one of them!"

The two officers shot him a death glare, and he rushed to explain. "The monsters! One of the monsters! N-Not people! Monsters. I killed one."

The officer in front of him straightened his posture and looked him in the eye. "Can you please describe it in more detail?"

"Yes, yes, I can! Uh, I was… I carried a bag. Beans. I had beans in the grocery bag. Where is my bag?" He looked around frantically, and the man pointed at his hands, where he was still holding the broken bag. "Yes!" He lifted the brown-stained object. "This bag! There was a can of beans in it! And then I… I swung it! Like whoosh, I heard the sound they made while dashing, and then boom, the can of beans in the bag hit one in its head; it was dashing like really fast, so it flew into it, smashing its head with like a twunk, and uh, and then I stabbed it… and… uh… it died."

"Uh-huh. Right," the officer confirmed as he wrote something down. "Can of beans," he said, punctuating whatever he had written on the notepad with an aggressive dot. "On an unrelated note, you should probably seek a psychiatric evaluation after this event."

"What!? No, I'm not crazy! I-I really did it! Look!" he said as he pulled the jagged, bloody dagger out of the foil blanket wrapping his body, a weapon he had somehow managed to conceal through the paramedic check-up.

Instantly, the officer sprang forth, grabbing it by the dried bloody blade and firmly pulling it out of his hand, seemingly without fear of cutting himself.

"I'm not sure where you picked this up, sir," he said with an edge to his voice, "but even if you've killed one, mortals don't get paid for takedowns during breaks. Unqualified individuals should evacuate, not risk their lives for money," he said the last part in a reprimanding tone.

The man carefully handed the weapon to a colleague and turned to him again with a hint of curiosity in his eye. "However, if you did do it, you could perhaps manifest a prime."

His mood dropping like a stone, he deflated. Yeah, right, a prime. May as well buy a lottery ticket.

In a last-ditch effort, he pointed at the officer carrying the dagger away. "Do I get anything for the dagger?"

The man shook his head, and he nodded, disappointment clear in his expression. "I see."

Before he was allowed to leave, he was shaken down to ensure he hadn't taken any other dangerous objects from one of the invaders. The plastic bag was confiscated as well, for whatever reason.

With that done, the man asked whether he had anything else to report or further questions. He didn't, so the officer moved on to the next victim.

He was about to head back home, but then… he paused. Every dark corner of the streets before him resembled a death trap, and he felt a deep sense of panic overtaking him. His breathing hastened, his heartbeat sped up—

He jumped as one of the female officers put a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, please wait right here," she politely requested. "We'll be driving victims back to their homes soon."

So he stayed and was eventually escorted into a carriage. It was indeed a lot bigger on the inside.

The vehicle was filled with exhausted-looking people, and many had vacant eyes. Random blood splatters covered some of them; for better or worse, it didn't look like it was their own.

The light in the carriage provided ample illumination for him to confirm that he was indeed one of those covered in blood. And judging by the gruesome splatters all over his body, he was easily in the upper echelon of stained victims.

An old man sitting to his left, with clothes almost as bloody as his, suddenly grabbed his shirt aggressively, and with tearful eyes, he asked, "Hey, did you… Did you hide under a body, too? You did."

Freddy was creeped out by this stranger's behavior and tried his best to politely push him away, but the man was insistent.

"Yes, okay, I hid under a body!" he said, trying to get the man off his back.

The man smiled, chuckling and muttering, "You did… Yes, you did. You did do it!" The man shivered. "Of course you would," he said with a pained expression, defensively wrapping his arms around his stomach. "It's better than dying."

The others glanced at the two of them surreptitiously, and he avoided eye contact. Eventually, his name was called when they reached his address.

Once he left, he hurriedly rushed into his building, anxiously checking every shadow around him for movement, and by the end, he had entered a half-run. After fumbling with the keys to the entrance to his building, he closed the doors a little harder than he intended and winced at the loud crash.

The staircase was an intimidating opponent after such a day, but he forced himself to walk up. Once he entered the hallway of the second floor, he groaned at the time.

It was 2 a.m.

Yeah…

No.

His fear of his boss wasn't enough to stop him from taking a day off tomorrow. He groaned hard as he realized he had to go to the first floor again. He hurriedly rushed down the stairs until he reached the contact tablet.

Someone opened the door to the building, causing him to violently jump, and he spotted James and Sharon stumbling into the hallway, clearly drunk out of their minds. The faint light of the half-broken hallway lantern made it hard to see, so they spotted and recognized him far before they did his blood-splattered clothing.

Once they came close enough to see it, Sharon screamed, and James fell on his ass, whimpering in fright. "Jesus Christ, Freddy!" he yelled. "What the hell happened!?"

The blood-covered victim waved his hands to soothe them. "Don't worry! Don't worry! It's not my blood!"

James's eyes widened. "Whose blood is it, then!?"

"It's a…" he rushed to explain. "Oh, God, there was a break and… monsters. Just…" he pinched his forehead and sighed. "You'll hear it on the news tomorrow."

They calmed a bit, and Sharon approached him while profusely apologizing, grabbing his face, and examining him for any injuries. "Are you okay!?" she asked. "Do you need any help? Are you hurt!?"

"Don't worry… I'm… I'm fine."

James got up and approached him as well. "Dear God, Freddy, look at you! I've never seen this much blood in my life!" the man said, his gaze betraying a hint of fascination.

Sharon grabbed his arm, and he pushed her back out of reflex, more aggressively than he intended, making them back away from him.

Putting his hands up and down a few times, he finally spoke. "I'm… Look, we'll talk tomorrow. Just…" He pointed at the tablet. "I have to get something done, and I… I…" He turned around, hiding the blood splatters on his clothing. "I need some privacy now."

They nodded and walked up the stairs, shooting him a few worried glances as he turned to the contact device. Given the slight tremor to his touch, it took him a few attempts to correctly write his boss's name and unique ID on the small stone surface, but eventually, the tablet lit up.

He put a handful of coins into the open slot, parting with three dollars, which was a total scam, and started writing on the tablet. He had to make the letters relatively small to fit his entire message. Even then, the contents came across as rather curt.

The threat of getting fired wasn't enough to get him to cough up more money, so he sent the message and returned to climbing the stairs. His legs and feet ached as he pulled himself up with great effort. Once he was at his apartment again, he unlocked the door and went inside.

The stale smell of his room immediately reminded him that he was supposed to throw the trash out today.

Hurriedly, he took his bloodied uniform off and threw it on the floor, hiding it behind the trash can. Breathing raggedly, he backed away but soon calmed himself and plopped his stinky body onto his filthy sheets.

Oh, yeah… he suddenly remembered. I guess I'll be eating sleep for dinner tonight. Or so he thought.

Yet, he found the prospect of falling asleep impossible. He didn't feel tired. To his own surprise, he didn't even feel bad, other than the few bruises he'd suffered from his two falls. Once he calmed down a bit, he felt fine. So, he got up. If he wasn't going to work tomorrow, he might as well stay up as late as he wanted.

After getting off his bed, he walked to the chest and opened it. There was a pile of books in a corner, and he pulled out one from the bottom.

Magic Before Ether, the title said.

It was his favorite book. It talked about the once glorious technology mankind had achieved before the Rift took it away.

Cars. Televisions. Computers. Airplanes.

True, ether allowed for things that mankind hadn't achieved even back then, but that didn't mean it had been impossible.

Most of the old technology had been recreated in new ways under the limitations enforced by the altered physics, but he couldn't help but admire the people's dreams back then. They dared aspire to achievements such as Dyson spheres, interplanetary travel, and artificial intelligence.

A big part of him wondered whether greater heights could be achieved now or back then.

Both eras had their advantages and perils. Life hadn't been easier back then, but at least monsters had been nothing but a fairy tale. At least—

The book's pages slammed with a thump, and he found his heart beating rapidly again. He put the book back into the chest and closed it. The room felt suffocating, so he opened the window.

The fresh outside air didn't make him feel any better. The music, still echoing far and wide, filled his ears, and lights flickered through the sky, mostly coming from the floating structures. He put a hand to his mouth as puke rushed up, and he couldn't hold it back.

There was nothing to throw up besides a few drops of yellow liquid, promptly ejected with a few gags. He watched them fall to the street below and quickly shut the shades, closing the window behind them.

The sheets wrapped tightly around his body. Restless, it wasn't long until he got up to check whether his doors were locked. Back in bed again, for the first time in his life, he felt grateful that his apartment was so small and there was nowhere anything could hide.

Yet, there was a bit of space under him. He moved to the side and checked, laughing a bit. How stupid. He was so old and still afraid of monsters under his bed.

The space above his chest, where his clothes basket hung off the ceiling, was out of sight. So, he bent forward enough to confirm nothing was there, either. He checked the inside of the chest, too, just in case.

As he looked at every corner of his room and once again confirmed the apartment was locked, he finally dropped onto his bed… just to again get out of it and move the chest in front of the door to block it.

He grabbed the handle on the window, tightening it and making sure it was extra closed.

Checking behind the garbage can, for a moment, he thought his clothes had shifted, and he jumped back, yelling a bit. He kicked the can forward and on top of the bloodied clothes to hide them from view.

That was enough for him to return to bed.

The raging sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears, and the taste of acid was in the back of his throat. The muffled sounds of the outside gradually silenced, and eventually, exhaustion finally won as the long-awaited grasp of sleep whisked him away.

***

He was awakened by a sharp pain that felt like it was coming from everywhere on his body. It fizzled and crackled, numbing his limbs. A bright flash of green light soon followed it, and the agony abruptly stopped.

He woke up with a jolt, taking a deep breath and looking around the room in a panic. "Was that sleep paralysis? A nightmare? What the hell, man…? It just keeps getting…"

The faint light peering through his shades only faintly illuminated his room, but it was enough to spot something unusual sitting on his bed.

There was a ball. And it had a face.

A green face that looked as if it were stretched over a sphere sat on his sheets, staring at him and grinning widely. "What are you looking at, you fucking bitch!?"

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