A Taste of Power

I wasn’t sure what came next, but I could feel the system’s eyes on me, urging me to take control. The clock was ticking, and I wasn’t about to fail. Not again.

Garrick stopped at a small, grimy tavern, the kind of place where men gathered to drink away their miseries. The air was thick with smoke, the sharp tang of spilled ale, and the muted chatter of lowlifes and traders looking for something—someone—easy to exploit. I hadn’t been here before, but I recognized it for what it was: a den of thieves, the perfect breeding ground for those who would do anything to survive.

I glanced back at the man I’d spared earlier, his face drawn tight in fear. He had stayed close, though, ready to follow my orders as I’d promised. But the hesitation in his eyes told me he wasn’t ready for what was coming next.

Inside, the room grew quieter as we entered. A few murmurs spread like wildfire, the familiar scent of danger in the air. The local riffraff barely took notice of us, too drunk to care about anything outside their immediate reach. But one pair of eyes did.

A man at the far corner of the room looked up as we walked in. His gaze locked onto me, sharp and calculating. I felt his assessment from across the room, his eyes narrowing as if trying to measure me. The weight of his stare was unsettling, but I didn’t flinch. Not anymore.

“He’s trouble,” Garrick muttered under his breath, keeping his voice low.

“Then we’ll deal with him,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended. The words felt hollow, but they were out before I could take them back.

The man stood slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his build was broader and heavier. He had the look of someone who knew how to handle himself. But I wasn’t backing down.

I motioned for the man behind me to stay back, the one I had spared earlier. He nodded without saying a word, his gaze darting around the room, unsure whether he should stay or leave. I ignored him, focusing solely on the man approaching me.

“What’s your business here?” I asked, my voice steady despite the knot of tension in my stomach.

The man’s lips curled into a smug smile. “Business? I think you’ll find that I’m the one asking the questions here.” He didn’t pull out a weapon yet, but I could see his fingers twitch, ready to draw something at a moment’s notice.

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t afford to wait.

In a flash, I grabbed a broken bottle from a nearby table and slashed it across his chest. He grunted, more surprised than hurt, and drew a knife in retaliation. But I was already moving, closing the distance between us. My instincts were sharper now, quicker than I remembered. I dodged his first strike, the knife grazing past my side. But I was already behind him, my arms snaking around his waist as I drove my knee into his back.

The man stumbled but didn’t fall. Instead, he spun, roaring in fury, slashing his knife downward. The tip caught my arm, slicing open the flesh in a shallow cut. Pain flared, but it only fueled my anger. I wasn’t going to stop. Not now.

I gripped his wrist, forcing the blade away, and brought my elbow down hard on his throat. He choked, stumbling back, but still tried to fight. He was too slow. My hand shot to his throat, squeezing, cutting off his breath as I shoved him against the nearest wall.

His face twisted in panic, his hand clawing weakly at mine. But I didn’t stop. Not until I heard the crack—the sound of his neck breaking.

Silence fell, save for the faint hiss of air as his body went limp in my grasp. I let him fall, watching as he crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. His blood stained the ground beneath him, dark and thick.

I stood over him, breathing heavily, the reality of what I had just done hitting me all at once. My body was shaking, not from fear but from the rush of power that came with it. This was the path I was on now. The tyrant’s path. There was no turning back.

Garrick was quiet for a long moment, but then he spoke, his voice gruff. “That’s how it starts, Leon. One step at a time.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. The weight of the life I had just taken pressed down on me, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt…necessary.

“I’m not afraid of what comes next,” I said, more to myself than to Garrick. “I can handle this.”

The words tasted bitter, but I knew they were true.

I stood over the body of the man I’d just killed, the reality of my actions settling heavily in my chest. Blood pooled around his lifeless form, staining the floor beneath him. The other patrons in the tavern had gone deathly silent, all eyes on me, some wide with fear, others with curiosity. They didn’t know me and didn’t understand the choice I had just made. But that didn’t matter. This wasn’t about them.

I wiped my hand on my tunic, though the blood still clung to my fingers. There was no going back now. No escaping what I had just done. It wasn’t just self-defense. It wasn’t just survival. It was power, raw and unrelenting. The Tyrant’s System had chosen me, and now there was no running from its demands.

Garrick stepped closer, his expression unreadable, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “You’re going to need a strong hand to hold onto this power, Leon. You don’t just kill for survival—you kill because you have to. It’s the only way to make sure no one forgets your name.”

I looked down at the corpse again, his wide, empty eyes staring up at me. I could still hear the faint sound of his breath rattling in his throat as I’d choked the life from him. For a moment, I almost felt a pang of regret, but it was fleeting. The rush had been too powerful. The rush of control, of command. The feeling of holding a life in your hands and deciding whether it continues or ends.

I had to embrace this. There was no room for hesitation. The world wasn’t kind to the weak, and I wasn’t about to become another casualty.

“I’m not afraid of what I’ve become,” I muttered, more to myself than to Garrick. “Not anymore.”

Garrick gave a low chuckle. “Good. Because the world is going to make you prove it every damn day.”

I turned toward the exit, stepping over the fallen man’s body, my heart beating with purpose now. There was more to be done. More people to deal with. I had made my first kill. I had made my first step toward becoming what the system required. A tyrant.