Pittersville had undergone a number of changes ever since the discovery of Faralethal. Its proximity to the passage made it a hotspot of development. Construction, renovation, and demolition was the name of the game. Every corner had an earth-affinity archhuman building a wall or tearing one down.
To many of the old residents, this was a nightmare. The extent of the gentrification was devastating, forcing almost eighty percent of the former residents to move. Those who had real estate in the city were more than happy to take their massive bag of cash and build a mansion by the ocean or a villa in the hills. The others weren’t nearly as lucky.
For the most part, at least.
The sudden arrival of hundreds of companies created so many new jobs that the companies in question were forced to hire anyone they could get their hands on. Some even had to settle for elderly mortals and the disabled, and then scramble to find batches of primes that would get them back on their feet and in shape to work.
Naturally, this outcome was hardly optimal for the mortals in question. These were no charities, and those who got help were expected to work. And while slavery was technically kind of illegal in the empire, there were plenty of legal loopholes that could keep an employee working indefinitely.
And nobody knew these loopholes better than Stephen White.
For the longest time, Stephen’s life had sucked. He had lost all his precious fat, and was gaunt yet again. At some point, he had even lost the motivation to shave, and his thick beard, which looked just like his father’s, grew out long enough to cover his entire neck.
With his balding head and thick beard, he was the spitting image of that rotten bastard. So he had, at the very least, scrounged up what few funds he had to hire a life-affinity arch to bring his hair back.
Oh, how hard his life had become after the collapse of Camp Violet. Life was cruel. A precious opportunity could come crumbling into ashes in the blink of an eye.
Despite the legal countermeasures he had prepared, he ended up taking the fall in the end. It would have been a different story if the Kraven Clan, those imbeciles, hadn’t done themselves in with their reckless infighting, but alas.
Even though he had avoided prison time, the fees had bled him dry. If it weren’t for his trust fund, and the Pittersville apartment he had registered as his personal residence, just in case, he would be living on the streets. Not that this was much better.
His “penthouse” didn’t even have any spatial expansion. He felt like a caged animal, and with each passing day, his quality of life had continued to deteriorate, until he was watching the BC and chaining beers all day.
Until he became the spitting image of that peasant.
Had this continued any longer, he was sure he would have thrown himself off the top of the building. But ultimately, he found the light at the end of the tunnel.
With the countless companies moving into Pittersville, it had only been a matter of time until his services would be needed, yet again.
Those rotten suits kept trying to get him for cheap, but he had been stubborn. He would rather die than settle for eight figures.
Thankfully, given that his services were in high demand, it wasn’t long until someone finally bid him a reasonable salary. And it just happened to be a company he had always dreamed of working with.
Pale Moon Industries was a titan of a conglomerate. And they weren’t backed by some rabid upstarts, but rather the Severe Clan, one of the most powerful and influential families on the entire continent.
He had started small, writing up contracts and modifying them accordingly to keep up with changes to the local laws. After Harold Maskaart’s fall, no new Lord had been granted ownership of the city, leaving it instead under the direct purview of the empire.
For Stephen, this was a mixed bag. Lords could be bribed. But the empire’s playbook was better known, and their loop holes were practically textbook at this point. Changes were being made, of course, but it was nothing he couldn’t keep up with.
While he was still on the lower end of the second star, he was a dream-affinity powerhouse. He’d always been a brainy man, even before he became an archhuman. That was the main reason his relationship with his family ended the way it did.
As expected, it didn’t take long for him to be promoted. It was only natural that a talent like him would be recognized. But then he was promoted again. And again. No matter how hard he tried to keep his cool and go along with it, it was incredibly obvious that he was being overpromoted.
These things happened.
The suits on the top of any company often had a… moderately skewed perspective of reality. It wasn’t to say they were stupid, but… Well, how was someone who had been born on the top supposed to understand those on the bottom? Stephen didn’t judge them—it was perfectly understandable. These people followed their gut, and often, this resulted in silly decisions.
Stephen White was a highly talented lawyer.
But he absolutely was not qualified to become the chief legal officer of the Pale Moon Industries Starhold branch.
His fortunes had turned for the better in the most extreme way possible. And now, he was yet again losing the hair he had paid to have regrown as he scrambled to live up to the standards of a world-class CLO.
There was no room for failure.
Using his newly found wealth, he ensured that he paid for every possible advantage. Given he had to go through tens of millions of words worth of legal documents every single day, he was being stretched unbelievably thin. Drinking essence-recovery potions at this rate was unsustainable, and the essence recovery ring he purchased just wasn’t fast enough.
He ended up resorting to some truly desperate methods.
From elixirs to help grow his abilities, to any concoction that promised even a marginal improvement to his cognitive performance, nothing was too far for him, and with his current wealth, no price was too high.
Like some kind of lunatic, he donned expensive armor, and hired a team of dungeoneers to help him progress his star. Just a few years ago, he never could have imagined he would be out here risking life and limb to get ahead. And with all the… physical activity he was putting himself through… he even started looking somewhat muscular.
His own reflection disgusted him.
But if that was the price he had to pay, then so be it. The body and mind had a profound connection after all. If he could eke out even another percent or two of mental energy out of it, he would even start properly exercising.
But he wasn’t that desperate yet.
His first year went by in a flash of excessive violence and endless work. Somehow, despite what he judged to be a rather underwhelming performance, nobody was itching to dethrone him quite yet. In fact, the CEO was nothing but thrilled with him, for some reason. The idiot was Overlord Severe’s son, so it was hardly surprising that he was out of touch.
The others weren’t so dumb. Unless he did absolutely everything in his power to secure his position, a day would come when someone replaced him.
He had to work harder. And work harder, he did. Too hard, in fact.
Unfortunately for him, he was still his father’s son. He still carried the same genes. The same defects.
He woke up in the middle of the night, his breath stuck in his throat. An immense, searing pain threatened to burst his chest, and his left arm went horribly numb. “What… is…?” He barely reached his phone to call for help.
By the time he came to, he was in a clinic, all kinds of tubes plugged into him.
“Do not be alarmed,” the doctor said. “You have suffered a minor heart attack. Most of the damage has already been healed, and you should be free to go in a couple of days.”
The horror Stephen felt at those words couldn’t be described. “No…” he whispered.
A couple of days in Starhold was an eternity. Missing that much work would be an immense setback. He could endure this once, sure.
Once.
His arm slowly moved to his chest, where he gripped the hospital gown with a strength so unlike him. The same thing would happen again, he had no doubt about it. It was the same thing that had happened to his old man. “No.”
“Sorry, sir, did you say something?” the doctor asked.
“Transplant,” he muttered. “I want a new heart.”
And a new heart, he got. He didn’t settle for some lesser quality crap, either. He went straight to the top, bidding on a heart of such unbelievable quality that people with perfectly healthy organs were eager to get their hands on it.
It cost him a devastating chunk of his wealth, but at that moment, he would have been willing to trade an arm and a leg, if that was what it cost. Anything to make sure this same thing didn’t happen again.
The transplant surgery was quick and simple. It didn’t even extend his recovery time. If anything, it seemed to cut it down.
At first, he hadn’t fully noticed it.
But there was a pep in his step. At night, he slept much better. At day, he was a lot more focused. And when he went out to help grow his star, he no longer tired so quickly. Breathing was easier. Walking was easier. Hell, he felt so powerful that he ended up picking up exercise, and he actually enjoyed it. The pump filling his growing muscles was something he never thought he could see in a favorable light.
But as he witnessed the sharp veins expanding over his skin, and the way his back stood straighter, the way his physique was shaping up, he didn’t see a peasant who had bulked up through years of physical labour under the sun. He saw something quite different.
“This heart…” He chuckled to himself. “No wonder it cost so much. This thing is incredible.”
He didn’t know which poor bastard had died and left it behind, but they could rest well knowing it was in the right hands.
On one fateful day, he was out with his colleagues on a company outing. The brass was all gathered in the C-class passage that had been transformed into a luxury resort, golfing away surrounded by picturesque nature.
As usual, they chatted away, mostly about work. Until—
“Hey, Stephen,” the COO called, just as he landed a beautiful hole in one. “You got that transplant a few months ago, right? Do you feel any different?”
Stephen nodded. “Yeah, I do, actually.” He shrugged, downplaying it a bit. “It’s definitely better than the one I used to have, that’s for sure.”
“I’ve been thinking of getting myself one as well, would you recommend it?”
Stephen halted, and so did almost everyone else. Then, they laughed.
“Pat, are you serious?” the CHRO jabbed. “Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering swapping out a perfectly healthy heart for a new one.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You’re a mad bastard, Pat.”
Then, suddenly, a deep voice boomed from their side. “I was actually considering the same thing.”
The field went quiet.
They turned, facing the lean form of the CEO. He was leaning against his club, looking over the course with a cigarette in his mouth. Indigo Severe was an imposing man. He was gorgeous in the face, with full lips, long lashes, hollow cheeks, and lush blond hair. There was a kind of lethality in his dark eyes, one that set him apart from the others there.
He was a combatant after all. And at the third star, there were few who could match him in the entire empire. In fact, he was famous for having single-handedly killed a lesser Lord in a spat five years ago.
Yet despite that, the man’s talent for leadership couldn’t be denied.
He made many naive, even childish decisions at times. It was only to be expected from someone who dedicated most of their time to growing their personal power. But even then, his decisions have been nothing but stellar for the company.
If he was being honest, Stephen had always looked down on the man, ever since he had decided to appoint him as the CLO. But even then, Stephen had caught up. He had done something he himself hadn’t believed to be possible. Was it just by chance that Indigo had chosen someone with potential?
Or did the man simply see something in Stephen that even he himself couldn’t?
“Really, sir?” the COO asked. “Are there even any organs on the market that could outperform your own?”
Indigo smirked. “Yes, actually. And they come from the exact same person as Stephen’s new heart.”
Everyone glanced at Stephen.
Stephen gulped, sweat breaking through his skin. He wouldn’t be insinuating he wanted mine… right? But as soon as he thought about it, he realized this was an invaluable opportunity. So what if he wants it? I can always get a new one! “I-If you want, sir, you can my heart as well to complete the collection! It’s not like I need this one!”
Indigo smiled. “I appreciate the offer, Stephen. You’re a good man. But that won’t be necessary. You see, there are plenty of duplicates.”
Stephen scowled. “Duplicates, sir?”
“Yes. There’s a number of identical organs coming from the Northern Belt somewhere. A minor adjudicator is sourcing them, and he is raking in quite the profit.” Indigo flicked his cigarette, a tinge of irritation in his movement. “I can’t believe the empire would willingly allow a legal enforcer of that level to partake in the organ trade.”
The CHRO shrugged. “It keeps things under control. It’s ugly, but it ultimately brings the trade under the empire's thumb. There have been cases in the past where entire cities in subordinate territories were culled by local warlords for the sake of selling the organs away. This is the lesser of the two evils.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Indigo said. “But I don’t really care what happens to animals like that. Cull them away for all I care. I just hate the empire’s hypocrisy. It’s utilitarian policy on paper. In reality, they use their authority to funnel funds into their own coffers.”
The mood was soured. Everyone scowled at those words. It was true. Doing business in the empire could be a suffocating thing sometimes, especially when those bullies got their dirty hands all over the place.
The COO scoffed. “That’s how it’s always been. We do all the hard work, and the empire gets all the easy profit.”
“It irks me,” Indigo said, sighing wistfully. “But oh well.” He moved over to the tee, getting into position to swing. “At the very least, they give us the right to buy. We’ll have to settle for that.” The golf ball took flight, the sound of the swing ringing through the clearing.
Not one person in that field missed the meaning of the CEO’s words.
Over the following days, Stephen paid a visit to the University, where he signed up for several classes. It barely fit into his schedule, but he could afford to cut down on sleep a bit.
In just a month, he had a comprehensive understanding of the legalities of the organ trade. In two, he had a way around every rule, and a massive taskforce that would ensure that even an adjudicator couldn’t retaliate against them.
It was around that time that their research department started recruiting new experts.
Time passed.
With his part of the work done, he left the topic behind, moving on to other things.
As the months dragged on, his new heart continued to prove itself. He felt superhuman.
And it was thus that, the moment he had enough money again, he found himself at the operating table. It was lungs this time.
That was the first time he ever felt like had truly taken a deep breath. It was intoxicating.
Fast forward and his kidneys were swapped as well.
Fast forward a bit more, and there was nothing left to replace.
Yet again, they found themselves out in that golf field, and this time, it was obvious that something had changed. Everyone there had a bounce to their step, clearer eyes, better skin.
Even Indigo had a faint aura of fresh power about him. With a deep breath, he took his swing, a wide grin on his face. “Well, boys. It seems that luck is on our side.”
Indeed.
With that disaster in the Northern Belt coming to a climax, the adjudicator was left all the way back at the second star, utterly obliterating his political influence and standing in the empire. Oh, sure, he would be honorably discharged for his service, but he had lost his teeth.
Even better was that they finally knew exactly where those organs were coming from.
“Freddy Cliff, huh?” Indigo smiled. “Talk about throwing pearls before swine.”
Despite the overpowered talent the man had, he had managed to utterly screw himself over. First, a triple block, and then, he even inflicted nearly lethal soul damage on himself just to save a couple of barbarians. To make things worse for the idiot, he hid his triple block and lied about it.
According to imperial law… Well, he wasn’t going to be around to compete with them in the future.
And that wasn’t even the best part.
One could imagine the utter shock Stephen had lived through when he learned of what happened to Nahar Kraven. The same idiot who had led his own clan into ruin, and nearly took Stephen down with him, had sold his soul to some freakish monstrosity, and died the death he deserved.
“Indeed,” Stephen said. “Pearls before swine, indeed.”
As the days dragged on, the Pale Moon Industries Starhold branch continued to soar to new heights. Starhold was just an incredible place to be. It was the city where heroes were born. As the initial wave of rapidly changing legalese finally started slowing down, Stephen found himself with more and more free time.
At this point, he was at no threat of being removed. He had made sure that the company would have their work cut out for them if they ever wanted someone to take over. With the company structure crystallizing, it would be many years before the upper leadership underwent any new changes.
With all the free time in the world, and a miraculously fit body, Stephen spent more and more time having his fun. Life was good.
It was a normal day like any other. He woke up in his sky villa, the light of false down suffusing his home. He ate, got dressed, and showed up for work.
The people were murmuring.
“What’s the gossip?” he playfully asked.
“Look at this,” a senior lawyer said as he thrust a screen in his face.
It was a report about the man with the 1% Lifesteal talent. “Huh,” Stephen muttered. “Freddy Stern…? So that’s his real name… huh.”
“Something wrong?”
“No, just… Hold on a second, can I see that?” He grabbed the tablet from the man’s hand and moved over to a nearby couch. He read over the report. Somehow, the man didn’t get his head lopped off. By all means, that was exactly what should have happened, but the empire had decided against it. In fact, he ended up with quite the collection of badges.
But that wasn’t the main problem here.
Stephen had this feeling. It gnawed at him. “Do I know this guy?” he asked himself.
It rang a bell, but he wasn’t sure why. He activated Recollection, a dash of essence flowing into his mind and scrounging up anything related to the man’s face and name.
Stephen froze. A sheen of sweat broke through his skin, and his heart rate grew elevated.
“You good?” a man asked.
“Yeah, I’m just… I’m just, uh… I’m just wondering about something. Excuse me.” He rushed to his feet and marched to his office, shutting the doors behind him. He was hyperventilating by this point. “How is that possible?”
All the way back in Camp Violet, there had been a man. He was one of the more problematic workers. On the same day when they had sent those mercenaries to go look for him, disaster had struck, and the camp was destroyed.
“He survived that?”
He hadn’t been inside the camp at that point. But even then, that was absurd. The search parties had looked for survivors, and all they had found were a couple of staff workers who had managed to hide.
Freddy Stern hadn’t been among the survivors.
“So how the hell did he escape?”
That camp was located countless miles into the depths of Faralethal. The odds of someone just… finding their way back from there were so low they were practically nonexistent. And yet, somehow, this man had managed to find his way to New Earth.
At this point, Stephen was trembling. “There is no way he knows who I am… right?” He winced. They had met. Stephen had personally met every indentured worker Kraven had been shipping to the camp. “Oh, God…”
Judging the man’s accomplishments, he was no pushover. Hell, he was a freakin’ maniac! The guy had a reputation for tearing people’s heads off! And it wasn’t just one poor businessman who had gotten brutally murdered by the bloodthirsty psycho!
And now he had the full support of the empire behind him?
“This is just sick!”
He looked down on the tablet again. There were pictures of the man walking side by side with the retired adjudicator. They walked into a club together. A club Stephen frequented quite often.
His lips furrowed into an ugly frown. “You’re telling me I have to share the same city as this monster?”
What if they came across each other by accident? What if the man recognized him? Stephen’s hand unwittingly went to his neck. He really didn’t want to get his head ripped off.
But alas. There was nothing he could do about it.
The days continued passing by. Stephen closely tracked any spotting of Freddy Stern. He noted where the man went, and made absolutely sure to avoid those places at all cost.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted as he angrily threw the tablet. The man had been spotted going to the resort. He was there every damn day, almost! How was Stephen supposed to golf in peace!?
Stephen’s nights grew increasingly restless. He would wake up in a cold sweat, imagining that the man was standing in his room, hands covered in blood all the way up to his elbows.
He had to do something.
“You needed me?” Indigo asked as Stephen walked into his office.
“Yes.”
The two of them had gotten a lot closer over the past months. Stephen would almost allow himself to think they were friends. Not that he would make that claim out loud, of course. But they were close enough to talk openly. And talk, they did.
“Hmm…” Indigo muttered. “That man is definitely a problem. I was hoping his soul damage would change him and that he would retire from fighting, but it seems that he isn’t going away so easily.”
Stephen’s fists clenched. “Do you think he will overcome the triple block?”
Indigo laughed at that. “No. He will not. That has never been done before, and it won’t be accomplished by some nobody who was dumb enough to accidentally inflict it on himself.”
“So why would the high adjudicators let him go?”
“Because they are arrogant fools.” Indigo’s expression soured. “But even if he doesn’t reach the third star, he could still be a problem in the future. If he partners with a competitor, we might end up losing our organ monopoly.”
Stephen got his hopes up. “Are you going to do something about him?”
“The man has some serious anger issues,” Indigo proclaimed confidently. “And it just happens he’s been looking for dungeons to delve lately.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Indigo smirked. “I can’t exactly attack him unprovoked. But I can retaliate if he attacks me.”
They came up with a plan.
It took a while, but eventually, just as Indigo predicted, Freddy Stern visited the Pale Moon Auction house. Spying on him directly was impossible for some mysterious reason, but he had no defense against recording devices. Stephen anxiously followed the situation.
The man made his way into one of the bidding rooms, and as expected, once he saw the negative bidding bonus, he wasn’t happy about it.
Even through a camera, the man’s fury was profoundly uncomfortable. He didn’t burst into a fit of rage, but just from the way he stood, it was obvious he was ready to explode. It was horrifying.
“So that’s how you want to play, huh?” he muttered as he left the room.
Stephen anxiously tracked the cameras as Freddy Stern made his way out of the building.
Before long, Freddy ran into Indigo, who was standing in the middle of the hallway. “I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Stern,” he provoked, bowing mockingly.
Indigo wasn’t just a powerful fighter. He was an elite among elites, a combatant who was feared even by weaker Lords despite not yet being at the fourth star. And despite that, Stephen still couldn’t ignore the fear that he was about to watch Freddy Stern tear the man’s head off.
The moment passed. And rather than blunder his life away, Freddy simply scoffed. “Fuck you too, buddy,” he said as he walked past him. “Fuck you, too.”
As the man left, Indigo turned to face the camera and shrugged.
Stephen sighed in relief, despite himself. “Why the hell do I feel relieved? The plan failed.”
Obviously, Freddy Stern wasn’t capable of killing Indigo Severe. Even considering that was actually insane. “I think I need therapy…”
Time continued to pass. And things just continued to get worse.
Freddy Stern continued to delve, accumulating money and no doubt an ungodly amount of latent aura. They watched him chew through the dungeoneer badges like they were nothing, until he crossed over a thousand completed delves in just a bit over a year.
All while suffering from terrible soul damage.
If this was how powerful he was while at his weakest, how strong was he really at his best?
Stephen’s nightmares continued to get worse, and despite going to therapy, his phobia reached a level where he refused to go outside, out of fear he might run into him.
And then one day, a video of Freddy embarrassing himself in the university surfaced.
The whole city wondered who he was, with the few who knew getting completely ignored because nobody believed them. They called him a support, or a summoner, and accused him of cheesing badges and lying. All because anything else didn’t make sense. He was too much of a freak.
Not long after that video surfaced, a handful of Pale Moon brass came together for a meeting. More rumors had surfaced. The Northern Belt was receiving immense support.
Through an insider, Indigo retrieved a recording of Freddy stern fighting three peak three-star combat puppets, decimating them with an unimaginable brutality and efficiency.
The high adjudicators were no fools after all.
Indigo watched the video, a darkness shrouding his form. “He has the empire’s protection. As long as he is in Starhold, we can’t do anything to him. With his personality, he will undoubtedly look for revenge once he breaks the triple block.”
Everyone present had a sudden urge to scratch their necks.
“There will be a disaster one of these days,” Indigo predicted. “Starhold gets attacked all the time. It’s bound to happen within the next few years. Have a team on standby. The moment you see an opening… kill him.”