CHAPTER 5: A Taste for Violence

AEON

“Aeon! You look like hell!” the boss of my gang greeted me with a crooked grin as he noticed my bruised and battered face.

“Another seller caught me and said this was his area,” I muttered, frustration and shame heavy in my voice. Fifteen-year-old me had returned to the boss’s club empty-handed, dreading his reaction.

“You’re lucky you’re one of my favorites, Aeon,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his cold eyes studying me. “Otherwise, I’d have no problem tossing you out for failing to deliver the batch I gave you. But today, I’ve got a gift for you instead.”

With a flick of his hand, the boss motioned to one of his men. Moments later, they dragged in the guy who had beaten me up, the one who claimed the area as his. His wrists were tightly held by two of the gang’s enforcers, his face pale with fear.

“Please! You can have the area—I’ll leave! You’ll never see me again!” the guy pleaded, his voice cracking.

The boss chuckled, lighting a cigar. “You’re in luck. I’m not the one deciding your fate today.” His gaze shifted to me, a twisted smirk curling his lips. “Do as you please, Aeon.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the man. Until now, I had only been a delivery boy, just running errands for the gang. This was the first time I was handed real power—the power to decide someone’s fate.

“Please,” the man whimpered, his voice trembling as tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m sorry!”

“I… I…” I hesitated, glancing back at the boss. His expression turned to one of disappointment, and I felt the weight of his unspoken expectations pressing down on me.

“You little brat!” the man shouted suddenly, lunging at me. His hands closed around my neck, cutting off my air. I thrashed and gasped for breath, but the boss didn’t move. His men didn’t either. This was my fight, and I realized that if I didn’t act, I’d die right there on the filthy floor of the club.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I kicked the man hard in the groin. He doubled over with a groan, collapsing to the ground in pain. Rage burned through me like fire as I scrambled to my feet.

I didn’t stop to think. I kicked him in the face, sending blood splattering across the floor. Then I climbed on top of him, pinning him beneath me, and let my fists fly. Punch after punch, my anger only grew stronger, each blow feeding a dark thrill inside me.

When I finally stopped, the man lay unconscious beneath me, his face a battered, bloody mess. My own hands were shaking, coated in blood. Pain radiated through my knuckles, but I barely felt it.

“Well done, kid,” the boss said, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. I froze, staring at my trembling hands. But then I felt something strange—a smile crept across my face, wider than I’d ever.

I enjoyed it. The rush, the power, the release.

This was before the transition, my first life-or-death situation. It clicked something inside me, an addiction to the thrill of fighting with life on the stakes.

We were inside Roblard’s house. “What brings the renowned adventurer Artou to our humble village?” The Majin with two dark horns spoke with a cold sneer. His name was Zasz, and he wasn’t alone. Three companions flanked him—a Green and two Majins, each with a single, sharp horn. All of them radiated danger.

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“Zasz,” Artou said, his voice sharp with irritation. “What do you want now?”

Standing before the towering Majin, I felt an unfamiliar knot of fear in my gut. In my old life, I hadn’t cared much for danger. When you’ve got nothing to lose, there’s no point in being afraid. But Zasz was different. His aura was heavy and suffocating, like a predator toying with prey.

“Word around the guild is that someone was ambushed during a hunt,” Zasz said coolly, “by someone wielding unusual weapons. Weapons like yours.” His black eyes flicked to Artou’s firearm.

Artou didn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zasz stepped closer, his horns gleaming in the dim light. The air between them crackled with tension. “Let’s get one thing straight, Artou. Your little guild connections won’t protect you forever.” He broke the stare-off with a smirk, turning his attention to Roblard. “Now, where’s the fire core I requested?”

Roblard stiffened. His bravado from earlier had evaporated. “I... I used it. I’m tired of you snatching up all the good-quality materials I find!”

Zasz laughed darkly. “You know how this works, inventor. Accidents happen in places like this.” His smirk turned into a barked order: “Destroy it.”

The two Majins stepped forward, smashing tables and scattering tools.

“Artou,” Zasz said over his shoulder, “feel free to stay and watch. Maybe you’ll enjoy seeing your friend’s little workshop burn.”

Roblard tried to fight back, enhancing a wrench with magic and leaping at Zasz. But before he could land a hit, Zasz casually kicked him midair, sending him flying into the wall. Roblard melted into a puddle of green liquid, reforming shakily nearby.

“That’s enough!” I roared, stepping forward. My mechanical arm hummed with power as I grabbed Zasz’s wrist, stopping him from advancing on Roblard. “The fire core is right here, you asshole.” I did hate the guy’s guts, I didn’t interfere wanting to play a hero. Since I got to this world I was itching to get into a fight, and try the new powers.

Zasz turned his gaze to me, his eyes narrowing. “Did you just touch me?” His killing intent was palpable, and though I knew I should be terrified, the challenge excited me.

He lunged, aiming a kick at my chest. I caught his leg in the air, but his companions didn’t wait. The two Majins charged, one with stone-covered fists and the other wielding a blade. I released Zasz and dodged their attacks, but the earth-wielding Majin’s punch sent me flying through a crumbling wall.

I groaned, pulling myself up. “These guys are strong,” I muttered in excitement flexing my new arm. “But I want to see what this thing can really do.”

The earth Majin came at me again, his gauntlets gleaming like freshly polished stone. He swung hard, and I met his fist with my Burner. Heat flared, shattering his gauntlet and scorching his face. I followed up with an uppercut, launching him into the air. Leaping after him, I drove my elbow into his stomach, slamming him into the ground.

The swordsman moved next, using wind magic to accelerate toward me. His blade glinted in the light, aimed for my neck. I dodged at the last second, earning a shallow cut on my forehead. Blood dripped into my eye as he swung again and again.

“Enough of this.” I caught his blade with the Burner, the heat melting the steel into slag. Before he could recover, I pummeled him with a barrage of punches, leaving him unconscious on the ground.

The Green mage, a fire wielder, stepped back, launching a hail of fireballs. I braced myself, raising my Burner arm to absorb the attack. The core inside hummed, growing hotter with every hit.

The burner absorbed the heat, but I could feel it getting too hot even for me. I slammed it into the ground, releasing a wave of flames that engulfed the mage. He collapsed, singed and defeated.

“That’s enough!” Zasz’s voice rang out. He hadn’t moved from his spot. “Not bad,” he said, smirking. “But let’s see what you can do against someone with a real brain.”

Before I could react, he vanished, reappearing in front of me in a flash. His kick connected with my face, sending me crashing into a boulder. Pain exploded in my nose, and I spat blood as I struggled to get up.

‘Teleportation? No, it’s something else,’ I thought, noting the way his shadow didn’t align with his movements.

Zasz approached, his movements slow and deliberate. He kicked me again, this time in the stomach, leaving me gasping for air.

“No one picks a fight with Zasz,” he said, raising his foot for the finishing blow.

But it didn’t land.

Artou’s voice cut through the chaos. “That’s enough, Zasz.”

Zasz’s foot hovered inches from my face. He turned, smirking. “Finally decided to join the party, Artou? Took you long enough.”