2026-07-30 18:52:58"Give it up, little mouse," the leader of the thugs said. He was a large, ugly man with a missing front tooth. He held a cheap iron knife in his hand. The blade of the knife was glowing with a very faint, weak red light. It was low-level fire magic.
"No!" the girl cried out. She hugged the bag tighter. "Please! This is medicine! My master needs it! We paid for it!"
"Nobody cares about your master tonight," the second thug laughed. He cracked his knuckles. His fists sparked with tiny, weak bolts of yellow lightning. "The Inquisitors are coming to burn this whole block down anyway. The medicine belongs to the Mud-Snakes gang now. Hand it over, or we will cut your fingers off one by one."
The third thug stepped forward and grabbed the girl by the hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, trying to kick him, but she was too small.
Bruce watched from the corner.
His brain told him to walk away. He was injured. His right arm was useless. His core was broken. He was the most wanted person in the entire city. If he started a fight here, he might draw attention to himself. The smart, safe thing to do was to turn around and disappear into the rain.
But as Bruce turned his body to leave, a voice echoed in his memory.
You have the strength of the Void, but you have the heart of a Guardian.
It was his mother’s voice. She had sacrificed everything to protect him because she believed he was a good person. If he walked away and let these men hurt a young girl, he was no better than Lady Hestia or High Inquisitor Bontus. He would just be another monster in the dark.
Bruce stopped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cold, wet air.
"I am a Devourer," Bruce whispered to himself. He looked at the thugs' glowing weapons. "And I am very hungry."
Bruce stepped around the corner and walked directly into the alley.
He moved slowly. The heavy brown cloak hid his body. The large hood cast a dark shadow over his face. The rain beat down on his shoulders.
"Hey!" Bruce called out. His voice was hoarse, but it was loud enough to echo over the rain. "Let her go."
The three thugs stopped. They turned around and looked at the lone figure standing at the entrance of the alley.
The leader with the missing tooth laughed. He pointed his glowing red knife at Bruce. "Look at this hero. You picked the wrong night to play knight, stranger. Get out of here before we gut you like a fish."
"I am not a knight," Bruce said softly. He took another step forward. "I am just someone who needs what you have."
The thugs looked confused. "What do we have?" the second thug asked.
"Magic," Bruce replied.
The leader laughed even harder. "Magic? Are you crazy? Kill this idiot and take his boots."
The second thug, the one with the sparking lightning fists, charged at Bruce. He was fast, splashing through the muddy puddles. He raised his glowing yellow fist, aiming a heavy punch right at Bruce's hooded face.
Bruce did not try to dodge. He didn't have the energy to move quickly. His Void-Forged Body was damaged, but his reflexes were still sharp enough for a low-level street thug.
Bruce simply raised his good left hand. He caught the thug's sparking fist in the palm of his hand.
SMACK.
The thug grinned, expecting the lightning magic to shock Bruce and drop him to the ground.
But nothing happened. The yellow sparks danced over Bruce's skin and completely vanished.
"What?" the thug gasped, his eyes going wide. He tried to pull his fist back, but Bruce's grip was incredibly strong. Even with a broken core, Bruce's muscles were denser than normal iron.
"Thank you," Bruce whispered.
Through his left hand, Bruce activated the Devour skill.
Because his core was cracked, pulling the magic hurt. It felt like swallowing sharp sand. But the moment the weak yellow lightning entered his body, the pain eased just a tiny bit.
It was a very small amount of magic. Compared to the elite Dungeon Guards, this street thug was nothing. It was like eating a stale, dry crust of bread when you were starving. But it was enough to keep Bruce's core from collapsing.
The thug screamed as his life essence was pulled into Bruce's palm.
Bruce didn't want to kill the man. He wasn't a murderer; he just wanted to survive. Bruce cut the Devour skill off before turning the man to ash. Instead, he just twisted his left hand sharply.
SNAP.
The thug's wrist broke with a loud crunch.
The man fell to his knees in the mud, screaming in pain and clutching his broken arm. The yellow lightning magic in his body was completely gone.
The leader and the third thug stared in absolute shock. They let go of the young girl.
"He's a dark user!" the leader yelled, taking a step backward. His hand shook, making the red fire on his knife flicker. "He just sucked Terry's magic out! Kill him!"
The leader and the third thug charged at Bruce together. The third thug pulled a heavy iron chain from his belt.
Bruce did not wait for them. The tiny bit of magic he had just eaten gave his legs a burst of energy.
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Chapter 52
Hestia looked up at Bruce. Her face was covered in blood and wet dirt. Her eyes, which used to look at him with such cold, cruel arrogance, were now filled with absolute, pure terror. She opened her mouth, but she was too weak to speak. She just whimpered, raising a trembling, bleeding hand to protect her face. She expected Bruce to summon his dark sword and cut her head off. Bruce looked down at the Matriarch of the Iron-Heart Clan. He looked at the woman who had locked his mother in a cage, who had branded his shoulder, and who had ordered him to be treated like garbage for nineteen years. He could easily kill her right now. It would take one second. But Bruce did not raise his hand. He realized that killing her here, in the rubble, was too easy. She was already defeated. Her gate was destroyed. Her secret battery farm was exposed to the church. Her elite army was dead. Hestia was going to have to explain this massive failure to the rest of the noble clans and the angry Inquisi
Chapter 51
The Blade of Lost Tears materialized in his grip. But it was not a normal sword of dark smoke anymore. Fueled by the Seraph’s full localized power and the explosive Ashen Fire, the sword grew. It expanded massively, shooting up into the rainy sky. It became a towering pillar of black and white flames, sixty feet long and ten feet wide. It looked like a column of absolute destruction. Bruce grabbed the hilt of the massive, sixty-foot pillar of fire with both hands. He did not feel the weight. The magic moved with his will. He ignored the army of Inquisitors behind him. He ignored the holy spears and fireballs flying at his back. He focused entirely on the giant monster and the massive eighty-foot gate blocking his path to freedom. "I am the Devourer," Bruce’s voice boomed. It sounded like an earthquake. Bruce swung the massive, sixty-foot sword of Ashen Fire directly at the Northern Gate. He swung it in a perfect, horizontal arc. The giant pillar of black and white fire hit Hest
Chapter 50
"Very little, Master," the Seraph replied. "Only enough for one final attack. But I cannot come out of your shadow. The holy net will burn me instantly.""You don't need to come out," Bruce commanded. "I am the Devourer. I am the bridge. I want you to push all of your remaining power directly into my body. Every single drop. I will channel your true, localized power through my own flesh."The Seraph was completely shocked by the order. "Master, you cannot do that!" the Seraph warned quickly. "My power is Forbidden. It is too dense, too chaotic! Your Void-Forged Body is strong, but you are still a mortal boy! If I push my full power through your cracked core, it will break your bones! It will tear your muscles apart! You might explode!""I don't care!" Bruce shouted out loud. His sudden shout made Bontus and Hestia stop arguing. They both looked down at the boy in the glowing net. "I don't care if it breaks my bones!" Bruce yelled, his voice echoing over the rain. He opened his eyes
Chapter 49
Bruce Thompson lay flat on the wet, cold cobblestones. The holy net of pure, burning hard-light was wrapped tightly around his body. The magic acted like glowing ropes of fire, pinning his arms to his sides and his legs together. Every time he took a breath, the net burned deeper into his wet clothes and his skin. He could smell the sickening scent of his own burning flesh. He was completely trapped. Above him, the giant, mutated monster that used to be Lady Hestia looked down. She was fused into the massive, eighty-foot Northern Gate. Her giant iron face twisted into an ugly, jagged smile. Her eyes burned with red, stolen blood-magic. She raised her massive foot, which was made of heavy iron beams and sharp spikes. She hovered it directly over Bruce’s head, ready to stomp him into a bloody paste. "I have you now!" Hestia’s monstrous voice roared. The sound shook the heavy rain in the air. "You are nothing but a trapped rat, Bruce! A little, dirty rat caught in a trap!"But befor
Chapter 48
The Seraph was not strong enough to stop the monster completely, but the dark chains slowed the giant arms down for just one crucial second. Bruce used that second perfectly. He ran straight up the falling right arm. His bare feet found traction on the rusty iron and the glowing red spikes. He sprinted up the massive arm like it was a ramp, defying gravity. "Get off me!" Hestia screamed. She tried to shake her arm, but Bruce was too fast. He reached the shoulder of the giant monster. He leaped off the metal joint, launching himself high into the air, directly toward the center of the gate. He was flying straight toward Hestia’s giant, ugly face. Bruce reached his left hand out. The Brand of the Void on his shoulder flared with its maximum power. The deep purple light illuminated the rainy night. He was ready to pull the corrupted magic right out of her brain. He was ready to end the Matriarch once and for all. "I am going to eat you alive, Hestia," Bruce whispered as he flew thro
Chapter 47
Without even slowing his sprint, Bruce reached his left hand up and caught the glowing red fire-arrow directly out of the air. He did not even look at it. He simply absorbed the fire magic into his palm, turning the iron arrowhead to rust, and kept running. The guards on the ground were completely decimated. They could not fight back. They could not even defend themselves. Every time they swung a weapon, Bruce was already behind them. Every time they tried to use magic, Bruce ate it, growing stronger, faster, and more deadly. It was not a battle. It was a harvest. In less than sixty seconds, the remaining twenty Iron-Guards on the ground were completely erased. There were no bodies. There was no blood. There were only piles of gray ash quickly washing away in the freezing rain. Bruce slid to a stop. His bare feet dug deep grooves into the wet stone. He was breathing deeply, but he was not tired. The stolen magic rushed through his veins, repairing his torn muscles instantly. The
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