The air reeked of smoke, blood, and something Riven couldn't name. He'd survived his first kill. A beast that should have devoured him now lay nothing more than a memory, reduced to fragments floating in his mind. Pain still coursed through his body, every muscle screaming, but a strange thrill lingered beneath the terror.
Riven sat on the cracked ground, panting, staring at his hands. His knife had been useless. Devour had saved him.
And yet, he didn't feel victorious.
Around him, the other Origin Users were far from done. Flames danced in the palms of a soldier's hands. Lightning tore from the fingertips of a girl barely older than him. Water and ice whipped across the battlefield. Every monster that appeared seemed to dissolve instantly under their attacks.
And then came the laughter.
A boy with spiky silver hair pointed at Riven, smirking. "Hey, look! The trash can actually survived! How pathetic. What is that ability supposed to do, huh? Eat things? You're gonna get yourself killed if you think that helps."
A few others joined in, throwing insults and mocking gestures. Some of the weaker players even threw objects at him — stones, sticks, anything to provoke a reaction.
Riven clenched his teeth. He wanted to rip the boy's head off, but he didn't. Not yet. That wasn't smart. Not here. Not in a place like this, where death didn't knock politely before arriving.
Instead, he smiled faintly, coldly. "Keep talking," he muttered under his breath. "You'll see."
No one heard him.
He had no flashy abilities yet, no elemental control. He was trash by all standards. Even his Devour had limits — he could only consume smaller, weaker creatures for now, and the process left him weak and nauseated. Every use of it was agony, but he couldn't deny the power it granted.
Power he intended to make his own.
---
The next wave came fast.
From the fogged horizon, hulking beasts emerged — larger than anything Riven had ever seen. They had the twisted elegance of nightmares: jagged limbs, mouths where eyes should have been, and scales that shimmered with an unnatural darkness.
The group panicked. Fireballs, ice spears, lightning strikes — everything went wrong. Some people screamed as the monsters tore through them in seconds.
Riven's stomach churned, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn't rely on luck anymore. Luck had abandoned him for seven years; he had to rely on himself.
One of the monsters lunged at a pair of frightened players. Riven watched it strike, crushing the first boy under its claws. The other froze in terror. His Devour mark burned faintly. Hunger stirred.
Riven didn't hesitate.
He sprinted forward, knife in hand. The monster's shadowy arm swung at him, but he ducked and shoved his knife into its lower limb. Black smoke hissed, and he gritted his teeth as the creature thrashed. Then, without thinking, he placed his hands on its chest and whispered the word inside his mind:
Devour.
Pain exploded inside him. It was sharper than before, like swallowing shards of ice and fire simultaneously. The monster's form began dissolving, its screams echoing in Riven's mind. For a moment, he thought he might pass out from the agony.
When it ended, he collapsed, barely conscious. His body shivered, drenched in sweat. And yet… he was alive.
The monster was gone.
A fragment lingered in his vision: [Fragment Devoured: Lesser Shadow Beast] → [Trait Gained: Heightened Reflexes]
Riven coughed, tasting blood in his mouth. "This… this is insane," he muttered. But inside, a spark of determination flared. "If this is what I have to do to survive, then I'll do it. Every damn time."
---
After the chaos settled, the survivors gathered in small groups, panting and tending to wounds. Riven stayed at the edge, unnoticed. He didn't care about praise or recognition. He only cared about surviving the night.
The silver-haired boy approached him again, frowning. "Hey, Devour Boy… don't think you're some kind of hero. You're weak. You're just lucky you got that one kill. Don't think you can keep up with us."
Riven's lips curved into a small, cold smile. "Luck?" he said softly, but with venom. "Luck's for people who don't have to fight for every damn bite of power."
The boy froze for a moment, surprised by the audacity. Around him, others murmured. Some laughed. Some sneered.
But Riven didn't care.
He couldn't.
Because already, he could feel the hunger.
Devour wasn't just a power. It was a voice. It whispered for more, for stronger, for better. And Riven didn't fight it — not yet.
He would learn to control it. He would learn to master it.
Or he would die trying.
---
Night deepened in the Gate. The sky burned with unnatural reds and purples, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. Riven moved carefully, scanning for movement. Every sense was alert. Every fragment of his growing skill and reflexes was tested.
A smaller monster slithered from the fog, its black form almost invisible against the darkened stone. Riven gritted his teeth, gripping his knife. The Devour mark pulsed faintly.
This time, he was ready.
The creature lunged. He dodged, then grabbed it, shoving it into his chest. Pain tore through him again, but this time he clenched his jaw, focusing. The monster's screams became whispers, then nothing.
He collapsed to one knee, trembling, and tasted the raw essence of its fragment. A new line appeared in his vision:
[Fragment Devoured: Lesser Shadow Slither] → [Trait Gained: Enhanced Agility]
Riven swallowed hard. "It hurts… but I feel… stronger."
The cold laughter of the others echoed in his mind again. Trash. Weakling. Useless.
Good. Let them think that.
They'd see soon enough.
---
Hours passed. Riven moved from shadow to shadow, learning, testing his limits, devouring what he could, avoiding fights he couldn't handle. By the time the first faint light of dawn crept across the scarlet sky, he had survived multiple waves of monsters that had killed the majority of the group.
He was exhausted. His body ached, and his stomach roared for rest. But he was alive. And he had grown.
The survivors who had mocked him earlier now looked at him differently. Some whispered, some glared, but none dared approach. Riven didn't move to celebrate. He had no one to celebrate with.
But deep down, he felt something that had been absent his entire life: possibility.
A future where he didn't have to crawl through the ruins unnoticed. A future where he could take what he wanted, where he could be feared, where he could be… strong.
He looked at the horizon, at the scarlet sky, at the fog curling around the jagged cliffs. And he whispered, barely audible even to himself:
"Step by step. Bite by bite… I'll get there. No one… will stop me."
The Devour mark pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging his promise. A shiver of hunger ran through his veins. Pain, power, and hunger — intertwined.
And Riven Kael, the so-called trash among heroes, smiled for the first time in years.