Frøya strolled through the city, her thoughts weighed down by the recent events in the hideout. The air was heavy with anticipation, but the bustling streets offered little solace. Suddenly, the reverberation of clashing swords pierced the air, yanking her back to the present. A man's voice followed, taunting, "Give up now, the last bloodsack is mine."
'Looks like the blood trafficking is rearing its ugly head again,' Frøya thought, her memories of Dyskólios' warnings resurfacing.
***
One year ago...
"Frøya, if someone possesses a mutagenic power weaker than yours, you can enhance your mutation by drinking their blood. But if you consume blood with an equal or greater mutagenic power, you risk death, unless it shares the same mutation as yours. Your body can't handle multiple mutations, and the more you drink, the more humanity you lose, turning you into a true monster. Never forget that."
***
Back in the present, the cacophonous street battle raged on. A man lunged at his foe with a deadly thrust, ending the clash abruptly.
"HAHAHAHA... THE BLOODSACK IS MINE, NOT ONLY THAT BUT YOUR BLOOD IS MINE AS WELL," the victorious man crowed.
'The madness that blood inflicts,' Frøya reflected.
Frøya stepped out of her concealment in the alley and addressed the man, her voice firm and unwavering, "Leave this city, you blood-seeking creature, and perhaps I'll spare your wretched existence."
The man's head snapped toward her, and he charged, cackling maniacally, barely holding on to the remnants of his humanity. He attacked recklessly, like a wild beast. Frøya involves the man's fists with what looks like an extencion of her arm reaviling us her mutation.
Her gaze locked on his hollow eyes. She sighed, then crushed his arm, obliterating it. The man's cries of despair echoed through the alley. Frøya, unable to bear his suffering, ended his torment by crushing his head.
"So tiresome, I couldn't even derive any enjoyment from it," she muttered, resuming her journey through the grimy city streets.
***
It was 2:43 a.m. when she reached her home. The front door creaked open, revealing her modest abode. A lengthy corridor with decaying wooden flooring stretched before her. She halted at a door, which was shut, the room where Guto was. She pushed the door open, and a look of concern crossed her face when she found Guto on the floor, drenched in sweat, coughing, and struggling for breath.
"Guto, what happened?" she exclaimed, rushing to his side and gently touching her hand to his forehead.
'He's burning up. Could this be a side effect of his mutation? I must help him, he's far too valuable to lose.'
"Don't fret, Guto. I'll get you some help."
"S-streptomycin, just a little," Guto pleaded, his strength waning.
"Streptomycin? Alright, I'll fetch it right away."
Frøya exited her house, brainstorming ways to obtain the medicine.
'I could ask Marcus, but that rogue will surely demand something in return. That scoundrel, with his perpetual grin and unkempt hair, does he even bathe? Regardless, today is Tuesday, so he's probably at the usual spot collecting the boss's package.'
She treaded the dimly lit streets, heading toward the eastern part of the city.
'He must be around here... What's this?' Frøya spotted a trail of blood and began following it. The trail led her to a dark alley. At its end, a burly figure dressed in all-black attire was hunched over something.
"A corpse should be left undisturbed," she asserted.
The man abruptly ceased his macabre activities and slowly rose from his crouched position. As he turned, still obscuring his face from Frøya, she gasped in horror.
"M-Marcus?"
Disgust and fear surged within her, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. Paralyzed, she watched as the man pivoted to reveal his unsettling appearance. He was clad in a leather hat, a mask with glass eyes and a beak, and carried a gruesome stick dripping with blood.
Gloves adorned his hands, and he wore a robe and boots. The mask featured glass openings for eyes and a curved, bird-like beak.
"I'm sorry; was this your friend?" The man inquired with a British accent.
"N-no," Frøya stammered, her gaze still fixed on the lifeless Marcus.
"Oh, alright. He was an awful man. Do you know a man called Dyskólios?"
"Y-yes, he's my boss."
"Great, so you did know him."
'Snap out of it Frøya, I must seize this opportunity.'
"Yes, may I ask why you did this to him?"
"He was quite a unique individual, and he possessed a mutation I wished to study. Plus, he was eating a small dog, what kind of monster does that. Can you take me to your boss now? I have something for him."
"That's no excuse to kill him. If you do something for me, I'll take you to my boss and won't mention what happened here."
"What do you want?"
"Streptomycin, do you know what that is?"
"Of course, I'm a doctor."
"Well, I need some."
"Alright, it's no longer in production, but if you come back with me to my house, I can make some for you."
'I don't know if Guto can wait that long, but this is probably my best option.'
"Okay, let's go. I don't have much time."
Together, they navigated the city's dimly lit streets, making their way toward the hideout. Located beneath a bridge in the southeast part of the city, they reached a steel door. Frøya knocked twice and announced, "It's Frøya, let me in."
The door creaked open, revealing two guards. They went deeper into the hideout to meet Dyskólios.
Frøya knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Dyskólios.
"Charles Hypatia, long time no see. I see you've met Frøya. Why are you here? Did something go wrong with Marcus?" Dyskólios inquired.
"Yes, he attempted to steal your package by attacking me. Regrettably, I had to eliminate him. If you doubt my word, you can ask Frøya, she happened to be passing by when it occurred."
"That is indeed unfortunate. He was always the hotheaded type."
"Here's what you asked for," Charles offered, producing a small box, which Dyskólios accepted. In return, Dyskólios handed Charles a pouch filled with golden coins. They conversed for a while, with Frøya waiting outside. Charles eventually exited the room, and Frøya led him out of the hideout.
"So, are you ready to go?" Charles inquired.
"Yes, I need to make this quick. By the way, do you think Dyskólios suspected anything?"
"No, don't worry, he's not so smart. Let's go now, I have a wagon waiting for us nearby."
However, before they could depart, the hideout's door reopened. Dyskólios spoke up, "Wait, Marcus may have been a traitor, but you still need to pay me."
"Fine, here it is," Charles replied, handing Frøya a small flask.
"What is this?" she asked.
"It's streptomycin, the debt is paid. The girl told me she needed some."
"You had some on you?"
"Yes, did you really think I would give it to you that easily?"
'This bastard.'
"Alright, I suppose that will do," Dyskólios conceded before retreating back inside.