Seventy-eight people died from that fall. Most of them lacked abilities that could save them, such as flight or some form of protection. Only forty-five of us remained, scattered across what appeared to be a planet similar to Earth. The key difference lay in the platforms—massive, floating cubes visible in the sky. The one we had been on had vanished, leaving us with a chilling realization: We are not alone.
The survivors displayed mixed reactions. Some tested their new powers, thrilled by the possibilities. Others stood paralyzed by the sight of mangled bodies—the 78 who hadn’t survived. Among the chaos, I began searching for any who might still be breathing. I found a couple clinging to life, their bodies broken but not yet beyond saving.
While observing them, I noticed something peculiar. Every corpse shared the same anomaly: a heavily damaged organ near the chest, an organ I quickly deduced to be the source of mana. As I watched one die, I understood. The moment life left a body, this organ self-destructed. A faint smile crossed my lips. 'So this is how it works.'
I began experimenting, piecing together the mechanics of this new world.
Twenty minutes passed. Survivors were regaining their strength, but the tension in the air hadn’t eased. Six people approached me, their leader stepping forward with a scowl.
“Hey, you. Stand up,” he demanded.
I didn’t bother looking up. "Busy. Go to Akira."
The man spat on the ground. “I said, stand up.”
Finally, I looked at him. Pedoro’s little lapdog. “Ah, it’s you.” Rising slowly, I added, “Did you waste your wish on getting a bigger pair of balls?”
His face twisted with rage. “You think we’ll follow you just because you killed Pedoro?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “But you will die if you don’t.”
“The only one dying today is you.”
“Don’t you want to know my power first? Attacking blindly seems foolish. I’ll even show you, if you’re curious.”
The man hesitated, turning to his group for a whispered discussion. He faced me again. “Fine. Show us.”
“Good. I need a volunteer.”
One of his lackeys stepped forward, activating an ability that turned his body to solid metal. A smart choice against most threats—but not against me. I placed my hand on his head, closed my eyes, and activated my power.
In the same instant, I drew my sword and stabbed it into my stomach. The group recoiled, confused. When I removed my hand from the metal man’s head, it appeared to clutch something—his very soul. For a brief moment, he stood still, lifeless, before collapsing. His metallic form faded, his soul dispersing into the sky.
His comrades roared with fury, charging at me. They assumed my power required a lengthy ritual and planned to strike before I could prepare again. How wrong they were.
I whispered, “Run, before you die.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. 'So this is my curse, then.'
As they leapt to attack, my body transformed. Metallic spikes erupted from me in a blink, skewering all five of them mid-air. They hung lifelessly, their abilities never even activated.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Unfortunately, you died before we could see your powers,” I said coldly, letting their bodies fall. The onlookers’ faces betrayed a mixture of awe and terror. To them, I had performed an intricate ritual to kill the metal man, stolen his ability, and used it to slaughter the rest. When the fighting ended, I noticed something else: the wound I had inflicted on myself was completely healed.
In this world, killing another person heals your wounds—but only if their body remains intact. Normally, the mana core within a person self-destructs upon death, making it impossible to use another’s core to heal your own. However, I discovered a loophole. By separating the soul from the body without fully killing the person, they exist in a paradoxical state—both alive and dead. In this state, their mana core doesn’t self-destruct, allowing me to transfer its properties.
Here’s how it works: I damage my own mana core, leaving it vulnerable. Then, by forcing the enemy’s mana core to heal mine, I inadvertently absorb some of their abilities. This transfer comes at a cost. The process is unpredictable and activates the curse tied to the stolen power. But the risk is worth the reward. Utilizing this trick, I stole the metal man’s ability before his core could destroy itself.
This technique came with limits. First, the stolen ability could only be used once unless my mana core absorbed enough abilities to grow stronger, enabling it to hold two or more powers permanently. Second, I had to endure the victim’s curse while the ability was active.
Before this battle, I had already stolen two abilities. The first enhanced my physical strength and senses, but its curse required me to eat food regularly, unlike others in this world who only needed food to replenish mana. It was a familiar inconvenience, so I kept it active. The second was the metallic body, which I had just used to devastating effect.
When I deactivated it, the spikes retracted, and I felt the curse settle in: my body became unbearably heavy, likely proportional to the power of my attack. Even so, I remained standing, thanks to the first ability.
I addressed the crowd. “Have I proven myself? We’re not alone in this world, which means we’ll face others like us. Are you ready to fight and survive, or will you choose to fade into nothing?”
A pause. Then, I continued, “I won’t force anyone to follow me. Leave if you wish. Those who stay will have to fight to survive.”
No one moved. The fear I’d instilled ensured their compliance.
Akira approached, his face pale. “Where were you?” I asked.
“Apologies,” he said. “My curse activated.”
“What is it?”
He explained. His power allowed him to take on the attributes of animals, but when he reverted to human form, he became a tree for one-fourth the time he had spent transformed. The size of the tree depended on the animal.
“Your ability is valuable,” I said. “Fly up and scout the area. Find us a place to build a base and report back.”
“Understood,” he said, taking off immediately.
Turning back to the crowd, I said, “I need to see your powers. Let’s determine who among us is most useful.”
By the time Akira returned, I had identified five standouts:
- Fuji: Earth manipulation, though it drained water from his body.
- Taki: Water manipulation, essential to sustain Fuji.
- Touma: Metal manipulation, perfect for crafting weapons and tools.
- Ohta: Enhanced vision, capable of seeing vast distances and through obstacles.
- Benjiro: Wave detection, able to sense movement in a wide radius.
Akira suggested a location nestled between mountains with natural resources. It was defensible and practical.
“We move there immediately,” I announced. “Fuji, you’ll construct the base using earth. I’ll provide the blueprint. Taki, supply him with water. Ohta and Benjiro, you’ll handle surveillance and defense. Once the base is complete, we’ll organize into proper units.”
Suddenly, Ohta and Benjiro turned sharply toward the same direction.
“Someone’s approaching,” Benjiro said. “They appeared out of nowhere and are heading straight for us. Slowly, but deliberately.”
“A muscular man and a teenager,” Ohta added. “They look strong.”
As I processed this information, a sharp pain coursed through me. The world spun. My head fell—severed cleanly from my body. Yet, before it hit the ground, my hand caught it. Without hesitation, I reattached it, the connection seamless as though it had never happened.
“An attack from behind,” I muttered. My second stolen ability had saved me, allowing me to survive the otherwise fatal blow. "This will be the first and last time I rely on it," I added, knowing that stolen abilities only granted a single use.