The Taste of Power
Azar's eyes opened to a gritty view of the sky, framed by the crumbling walls of a narrow alleyway. The stench of decay and discarded waste filled the air, but he barely noticed. As he sat up, memories of his strange encounter with the cosmic entity he'd met resurfaced—God, the being had called himself. The wheel, the spin, the promise of power. His heartbeat quickened as he recalled what he'd won: the Law of Devouring.
Standing up, he dusted off his suit, noting with satisfaction that his attire had translated well into this new world. The sword at his side hung perfectly, as though it were a part of him. The cool weight felt familiar, like an old friend by his side. He ran his fingers over the handle, his touch steady despite his racing thoughts. His surroundings, however, were entirely foreign—a sprawling city, streets littered with the debris of chaos and neglect. A faint hum of activity pulsed in the distance.
"Where am I?" he muttered, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of his location. But even as he asked the question, a calm detachment kept him steady. After all, he'd always lived by one principle: adapt and overcome. No matter where he was, no matter the circumstances, he'd find a way to thrive.
A faint memory nudged at him, something that God had mentioned during their conversation: a "new world." The specifics remained unclear, but one thing was certain—this wasn't his old life. Here, there were no grudges to carry, no enemies lurking in the shadows. Just him, his ambition, and his new power.
Experimenting seemed the next logical step. He held out a hand, feeling for the energy within. The Law of Devouring pulsed like a second heartbeat, a living force in his veins. But how did it work? He needed a test, something small to begin with.
Just as he was mulling it over, a rustling at the far end of the alley caught his attention. A rat, gaunt and wild-eyed, skittered from the trash pile. Azar didn't even think before reaching out. The moment his fingers brushed its thin, mangy fur, he felt a small surge—a brief flash as a faint essence traveled from the rat into him. It wasn't much, just a trace of life force, but he could feel it nourishing him, giving him a slight edge, an almost imperceptible sharpness to his senses.
Azar grinned. "So, that's how it works." His voice held a hint of awe, mixed with cold satisfaction.
The rat fell limp, a hollow husk of what it once was, and Azar flexed his hand, feeling that faint surge of vitality. If he could absorb strength from creatures as lowly as rats, what could he gain from something… more?
His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion near the alley's entrance. Two thugs, scruffy and armed with crude weapons, were arguing over the contents of a nearby dumpster. One of them spotted Azar and sneered, nudging his partner.
"Hey, look at this guy," he muttered, his voice filled with malice. "Dressed like a fancy businessman. You lost, pretty boy?"
Azar simply stared at them, unimpressed. His gaze flicked to the makeshift club one of them held—a piece of rebar wrapped with duct tape and rusty nails. This world might have been different, but it seemed certain things never changed.
"I don't suppose either of you fine gentlemen would care to share where I am?" Azar asked, his voice calm and mocking.
The thug with the club laughed, taking a menacing step forward. "Oh, he's got jokes, huh? Don't worry, rich boy, you won't be needing to know much longer."
As the thug raised his weapon, Azar's hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat. The thug gasped, eyes widening in shock as Azar's fingers tightened like a vise. Without hesitating, Azar let the Law of Devouring activate, feeling the thug's essence drain into him. Strength and vague impressions flooded his mind—memories of fights, petty thefts, and, oddly enough, a craving for instant noodles. The thug's life force seeped into Azar, filling him with a raw energy that was infinitely more satisfying than the rat's.
The thug went limp, his face pale and empty as Azar released him. The other thug stumbled back, terror filling his eyes as he watched his friend collapse like a deflated puppet.
"W-what the hell are you?!" he stammered, backing away.
Azar gave him a slow, cold smile, feeling the power coursing through him. The rush was exhilarating, an addictive flood of strength, and he hadn't even begun to test the limits of his power.
"I'm… new in town," he said, stepping toward the remaining thug. "Tell me, what city is this?"
"City Z! You're in City Z!" the thug squeaked, stumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to get away. "Please… don't kill me!"
Azar tilted his head, considering. He'd already seen what a minor life force could do for him. Taking this one too would give him a little more strength, a little more knowledge of this world. But then again, he didn't need to waste his time on the dregs of society. He had bigger ambitions.
"Get lost," he said, his voice low and deadly.
The thug didn't need to be told twice. He took off, sprinting down the alley and disappearing into the streets.
Alone again, Azar flexed his fingers, marveling at the subtle change in his body. His senses felt sharper, his movements smoother. Even his vision seemed to have gained a clarity he hadn't noticed before. The knowledge he'd absorbed from the thug was jumbled and faint, but he picked up on some crucial information—there were heroes here, and monsters. And based on the thug's memories, some of those heroes were strong. Very strong.
Azar's smile widened. Heroes? Monsters? It was all just fuel for him.
He made his way out of the alley and onto the street, a new sense of purpose guiding his steps. His ambition had always been to reach the pinnacle of strength, but now, with this power, the possibilities were limitless. He didn't need to save anyone, nor did he have to justify his actions. This was a new world, and he was free to carve out his own path.
Power was all that mattered. And now, he had the perfect tool to achieve it.
As he walked, he felt the weight of his sword at his side, an extension of himself. People cast glances his way—some curious, some wary, and a few outright fearful. He reveled in their reactions, enjoying the quiet authority he exuded. In this world, he was a force, unbound by any of the limitations he'd once known.
Soon, he would test himself against monsters, perhaps even heroes if they were foolish enough to cross him. And with every battle, every fallen foe, he would grow stronger.
With a final glance at the city skyline, Azar's mind raced with possibilities. If he could absorb strength from these people, who else—and what else—could fuel his rise?
A dark, confident smile spread across his face as he strode into City Z, the taste of power lingering in his veins. This world didn't know it yet, but Azar had arrived. And he was ready to devour it whole.