I pushed open the worn door to my rented room.
The faint smell of mildew hit me immediately, mixed with something stale—maybe old smoke or damp clothes.
The apartment was small. Just a single bed with a thin mattress, a nightstand, and a cheap plastic chair in the corner. Its only source of light was a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling.
I dropped the metal bat I carried with me by the door and kicked off my shoes. My socks were wet from the streets.
The bathroom was cramped, with barely enough room to turn around. Cracked tiles lined the walls, and the mirror above the sink was chipped at the corner.
Steam hissed from the broken showerhead as hot water splattered against the floor and ran into the slow drain.
I stepped under the water, letting it hit my skin. The heat stung at first but eventually started to feel good. It rinsed off the grime, sweat, and the lingering smell of blood that clung to me.
I leaned one hand against the wall and reached into the air with the other.
My status window flickered into view—translucent but easy to read.
---
◆ Health Points: 6 (100%)
◆ Mana Points: 10 (50%)
◆ Age: 35
◆ Race: Human
◆ Abilities: Devour (Unique), Fated Villain (Unique)
◆ Strength: (+)0.6 (+2)
◆ Dexterity: (+)0.4 (+1)
◆ Constitution: (+)0.6 (+2)
◆ Spirit: (+)1
◆ Luck: (–)10
---
I studied the numbers intently, calculating.
The attributes I gained from devouring those men had boosted my overall physical stats, but my mana points still stayed the same.
I frowned and called out, "System, how fast do my mana points recover?"
After a brief pause, the familiar text appeared before my eyes.
---
[Processing request... Formulating response...]
[Your mana points recover slowly due to your current condition. As your Constitution and Spirit increase, your recovery speed will also improve. Sleep and meditation can also accelerate mana regeneration. Currently, you regain 1 mana point per hour. Using Devour consumes 1 mana point per activation.]
---
I smirked.
"So it's going to be a grind. Just how I like it."
I turned off the water, grabbed a rag, and stepped out.
My eyes landed on the cracked mirror above the sink.
The man staring back at me didn't look like the same guy who'd woken up half-dead in a hospital gown. The sickly frame, the deformed face, the weak posture—they were all gone.
What I saw now was different.
I still had the needle marks and knife scars, reminders of all the crap I'd put my body through back then. But now? My body looked lean and solid. Muscle wrapped tightly around my frame, every line clean and sharp, like it had been carved out on purpose.
I was taller, too. Maybe five centimeters. Now standing at around 1.88 meters, I had a presence that was hard to ignore—even to myself.
My eyes followed the shape of my shoulders, the way they'd broadened. My arms looked stronger. My jaw was tighter, more defined.
This wasn't luck.
This was the result of the ability I'd gained. Of what I'd taken.
It was a body made for power, built through Devour.
I let out a short breath and gave a small, approving smirk.
Drying off my hair quickly, I slipped into the street clothes I'd taken earlier and slung the metal bat over my shoulder.
Stepping out of the apartment, the stale smell of mildew was replaced by the sharp bite of the city night.
I tightened my grip on the money in my pocket and headed toward the shopping district.
Tonight, I was going to buy some comfortable and stylish clothes for myself. After all, as a villain, I have to look cool, right?
The 24-hour boutique I picked was wedged between a noodle shop and a pawn store—bright neon signs flashing like bait. It catered to flashy wannabe gangsters and low-tier execs trying to look dangerous.
Perfect.
I moved through the aisles in silence, my hands precise and deliberate.
I picked out a black sleeveless tank top that clung to my chest and arms. Then I grabbed a pair of black cargo pants—loose but practical, with plenty of pockets. I slipped on black fingerless gloves that didn't restrict my movement. For shoes, I chose black high-top sneakers that fit snugly and looked ready for action.
At the front counter, a pair of silver-rimmed sunglasses caught my eye, so I added them to the pile.
The clerk behind the register stared, unsure whether to say anything.
I tossed a wad of cash on the counter. "Keep the change."
I walked out dressed in black-on-black, the bat strapped across my back. The city lights reflected off my new glasses.
I looked like a shadow in motion.
And I felt unstoppable.