Vorpal Edge

The Syndicate enforcer's baton didn't wait. A crackling arc of blue electricity slammed into his ribs.

Move.

Jake twisted, but another baton caught his shoulder. Muscle spasmed. He hit the floor, knees scraping concrete, yet his mind raced faster than the pain.

They're angry. Good. Anger makes you stupid.

"You dare drink Syndicate property?!" The enforcer's boot stomped down. Jake rolled, the heel grazing his ear. "That lifespan wasn't yours to take, maggot!"

It is now.

Golden text flickered in his peripheral vision: [9 YEARS, 5 DAYS]. The beatings had taken away a year of his life. Yet a savage grin split Jake's lips even as a baton cracked against his spine.

I chose it. I took it. And I'll do it again.

"Strip him!" Chris's voice cut through the chaos. 

Hands grabbed Jake's arms. He thrashed, teeth sinking into a guard's wrist. The man howled. 

They can't confiscate what's already metabolized. But rules never stopped the beatings.

A fist smashed into his jaw. White stars exploded. Jake's head snapped back, but his thoughts crystallized.

He needs to use his power again. Before they break his fingers. Before Chris gets creative.

A play so audacious it would freeze the room.

"ANOTHER SPIN!" Jake croaked through split lips.

The batons paused.

Chris stepped into his swimming vision, designer sneakers smearing Jake's blood. "What did you say?"

Jake spat a glob of red onto Chris's pristine shoe. "Let me spin the green-tier wheel. Right now. I'll hit a jackpot. And you—" He grinned, all teeth and defiance. "You'll get everything. Leader."

Chris's smirk twitched. The Parasites held their breath.

He's considering it. Greed always wins.

The enforcer snorted. "Green tier costs ten years per spin, maggot. You don't even have ten now."

"Exactly." Jake pushed onto his elbows, every muscle screaming. "I'll wager all of it. Syndicates take their cut from any winnings, right? So why not?" He locked eyes with Chris. "But if I lose… you get my kidneys. Fresh ones. No scars."

Laney gasped. "Jake, you're insane—"

Chris crouched, grip closing around Jake's throat. "Why would I gamble when I can just take your organs now?"

"Because," Jake wheezed, "if I win… you can get really good loot. The kind that buys favors. The kind that makes a parasite leader into a Syndicate lieutenant."

Chris's fingers tightened. Then, slowly, loosened.

Got you.

The room watched, half-terrified, half-rapt. Finally, Chris stood.

"Contract. Now."

[IF SPIN FAILS: JAKE YI'S VITALITY/ORGANS FORFEITED TO CHRIS LIANG]

[IF SPIN SUCCEEDS: REWARD GOES TO CHRIS LIANG]

After Jake signed his name on the contract, Chris tossed a murky vial at Jake's feet. "Here's your one-year charity, maggot. So you have 10 years for the spin."

The vial rolled toward the drain.

"Wait!" Laney lunged, her voice raw. From her ragged sleeve, she pulled a cracked vial glowing with golden liquid—10 YEARS swirling inside. "Take it. All of it."

Jake froze. "Laney, that's your—"

"Watching you die...that'd cost me more." Laney slammed the vial into his palm, then whirled toward Chris, kowtowing. "Please—let him have two shots! You'll get everything if he wins even just one time!"

Chris's sneaker pressed down on her neck. "Pathetic." But his eyes gleamed—greed overriding cruelty. "Fine. Drink up, corpse."

[+1 YEAR VIAL] | [+10 YEAR VIAL] |

[TOTAL VITALITY: 20 YEARS, 5 DAYS]

The elixirs burned like liquid hope. Jake gripped Laney's shoulder. "I'll make this right."

She smiled, blood trickling from her nose.

The green-tier wheel flared.

NUTRIENT PASTE (1 MONTH)  PARASITIC WORM (DRAINS 5 YEARS)  REGENERATIVE SERUM (MAJOR HEALING)  PLASMA BLADE (RARE)  LOCUST HORDE (AREA PLAGUE)  50-YEAR LIFESPAN (RARE)  RAT POISON (INSTANT DEATH) VORPAL EDGE (TIER-3 CURSED RELIC)

"Vorpal Edge..." A rasping voice cut through the crowd. 

Old Man Wen, who'd survived seven spins, pressed against the energy barrier. "A Tier-3 Weapon from a Green-tier Wheel… Its curse must be scary!"

The enforcer palmed his shock baton nervously. "Shut your trap, worm!"

But whispers spread like wildfire through the Parasites.

"Tier-3...my cousin saw one melt a Battle Walker's armor!"

"They say the last guy who touched a cursed relic aged fifty years in a night!"

Chris's knuckles whitened around the contract. "Enough! Spin the damn wheel!"

Jake's consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse. The Vorpal Edge's slot pulsed with gravitational malice, warping the wheel's rotation. He reached for it mentally - and screamed.

Agony unlike anything before. His fingernails splintered against the console as phantom blades sawed through his neurons. The wheel slowed.

#5 - LOCUST HORDE...

No.

#2 - PARASITIC WORM...

No.

#7 - RAT POISON...

No.

#8 - VORPAL EDGE

That. Give me THAT.

The wheel chimed.

[#8 - VORPAL EDGE (TIER-3 MELEE WEAPON, CURSED RELIC) AWARDED]

[ VITALITY Deducted: 10 YEARS]

[ CURRENT VITALITY: 10 YEARS, 2 DAYS ]

Darkness congealed above the wheel. A blade materialized - made of swirling obsidian, its edge flickering between solid and smoke. The air temperature plummeted. Parasites scrambled backward as frost crackled across the floor.

"Impossible..." The enforcer stumbled over his own feet. "Green-tier wheels haven't dropped Tier-3s since forever!"

The Vorpal Edge rotated slowly, revealing its fuller - a pulsating vein of crimson light. Wherever the glow touched, shadows writhed like tortured souls.

Old Man Wen made a warding gesture. "It devours years with every cut! The Syndicate locked the last one in-"

Chris lunged for the blade. "Mine! By the terms-"

Jake grabbed it before Chris could. Cold fire exploded up his arm as alien text seared his vision:

[ VORPAL EDGE ]

Type: Cursed Relic (Soul-Bound)

Curse: Drains 1 year per minute during activation.

Warning: Cannot be unequipped until death.

Laney screamed first. Jake followed her gaze to his left hand—the one clutching the blade. His fingers were withering, skin cracking like parchment as years peeled away.

The blade fused to his decaying flesh, gold veins snaking up his arm. His lifespan counter flickered wildly.

"Drop it!" Chris roared.

Jake couldn't. Wouldn't.

[ VORPAL EDGE: ACTIVATED ]

His lifespan counter flickered in his vision like a death clock—10 YEARS…9.6 YEARS… 9.3—as gold veins devoured his arm. The blade hummed, its edge rippling with fractal distortions that made the air scream.

"Kill him!" Chris roared.

Pulse rifles whined to life. Jake moved on instinct, the blade dragging him into a spin as blue plasma bolts shredded the air where he'd stood. The Vorpal Edge sliced through a guard's armored chestplate like rice paper, leaving a gaping wound that didn't bleed—it festered, flesh blackening as the man collapsed mid-scream.

"Move!" Laney ducked a stray bolt, her chains shattered by a wild swing of Jake's blade. The cut links didn't just break—they unmade themselves, rust blooming across the floor in an instant.

Chris lunged, serrated knife aimed for Jake's throat. The Vorpal Edge met steel—and the Syndicate blade shattered, shards scraped past Chris's face. 

"Storage room!" Jake grabbed Laney's wrist.