Ezra walked steadily through the city streets, the towering silhouette of the royal palace shrinking behind him. Stone roads stretched before him, lined with brick storefronts, lantern-lit vendors, and curious passersby.
So this is it, Ezra thought. My new world. No way home. No guide. Just me… and a skill called Devour.
His footsteps echoed between stone walls as he looked around. The architecture was a strange blend of medieval and arcane — a world of charm and danger stitched together.
First things first. Shelter. Then… figure out what Devour really means.
As he wandered deeper into the city, the noise around him grew more vivid.
"The hero's been summoned!"
"They say the Radiant Hero came from another world—like a real prophecy!"
"My neighbor said he wields a sword blessed by the Goddess of Flame!"
Ezra caught fragments of conversations from merchants, blacksmiths, and passersby. Hope and excitement shimmered in their voices.
Children ran past him, squealing with delight.
"The Radiant Hero's going to stop the Demon Lord!" one shouted.
"My dad said the hero glows like the sun!" another cried.
"No, he rides a dragon made of light!" argued a third.
Ezra sighed, keeping his head down. Of course. Leo's already famous. This world clings to hope like it's the only thing that matters.
The sound of haggling vendors pulled his attention.
"Fresh meat skewers!"
"Three copper for sun-dried figs!"
"Custom-enchanted belts! Protect your waist and your pride!"
Ezra ignored the calls, but one storefront made him stop.
A modest clothing shop. Its sign read: The Needle & Rune.
He glanced at his hoodie and jeans—dirtied, fraying, completely out of place.
"I need new clothes," he muttered. "Can't walk around looking like I tripped out of a different reality."
He pushed open the door. A bell chimed softly.
"Welcome!" the shopkeeper called.
"Just looking," Ezra replied.
His eyes scanned rows of cloaks, tunics, belts, and boots. Eventually, he found a black and silver set that matched his aura—sleek, functional, quietly striking. Long jacket with silver trim, matching pants, fingerless gloves.
He brought them to the counter.
"I'll take these."
After paying, he stepped into the dressing room and changed.
In the mirror, he didn't see a boy from Earth anymore. He saw something else. Something forming.
He nodded to himself and left the store, the bell ringing again behind him.
He continued his journey through the stone alleys, lanterns now fully lit as the sun dipped low. The city was alive in the twilight.
As he passed a group of gossiping townsfolk, he caught more chatter.
"They say the Radiant Hero met the Saintess herself—Mireille!"
"Already? So fast?"
"She's going to guide him. Can you imagine? A living Saintess walking with a divine hero..."
Ezra exhaled slowly, passing unnoticed.
They don't know the whole story. But maybe they don't need to.
Eventually, his eyes landed on an aging, two-story building tucked between a closed apothecary and a silent chapel. A battered sign swung above the door:
The Broken Chalice Inn & Tavern
A golden chalice with a jagged crack marked its center. Dim lanterns hung in iron brackets, glowing orange against cracked stone and aged wood. A stable stood to the side, quiet.
Rough around the edges. Quiet. Good enough.
Ezra stepped forward and opened the door.
Creak.
As he entered, several customers near the door turned to stare.
A group of men at the nearest table went silent.
"Newcomer," one muttered.
"Another stray from the palace?" said another.
"He doesn't look like the hero."
Ezra ignored them. His eyes took in the space.
Warm firelight poured from a massive hearth on the far wall. Wooden beams darkened by time crossed the ceiling. The smell of roasted meat, cheap ale, and burnt oak filled the room.
People milled about—eating, drinking, gambling.
Behind the counter stood a massive old man, polishing a mug. He didn't look up.
But someone else did.
A woman approached.
Ash-blonde hair tied in a loose braid. Green eyes with gold flecks. Wore a tavern dress and sturdy boots. She had the confident walk of someone who knew how to handle trouble.
"Hey there," she said. "Name's Nia Aeralis. I'm the barmaid. What can I do for you, stranger?"
Ezra's golden eyes met hers. "Room. Food."
She tilted her head, smiled. "Straight to the point. I like it." She quoted him the price.
Ezra handed her a gold coin.
Her eyes widened. "This is way too much!"
"Keep it."
"…Okay then," she said, and handed him a key. "Room three. Food'll be up in a bit."
"Thanks."
As Ezra made his way upstairs, Nia returned to the counter.
The old man looked up finally. Eyes like stone.
"New customer?"
"Yeah," she said. "Little cold, bit distant. But polite."
"Hm." He grunted. "He's got something else. You saw it."
She smirked. "You sure, old man Granz 'Iron-Leg' Dorran, that you haven't lost your edge?"
Granz laughed, deep and rough. "I might be retired, but I can still read people. That one's got something... dangerous. Could be fire. Could be frost."
Upstairs, Ezra turned a corner and suddenly bumped into someone.
"Ah—ouch!"
A boy hit the ground.
Ezra looked down.
Thin. Messy brown hair. Bright amber eyes. A satchel flung to the side. Dirt on his cheek.
Ezra said, "Sorry, kid."
"Who you calling kid—" the boy looked up. His words died.
Golden eyes. Blank expression.
Ezra extended a hand.
The boy hesitated. Then took it.
Ezra pulled him up.
"I'm Tim," he said brightly. "Nice to meet you!"
"Ezra."
Ezra walked on. Tim stared after him, stunned.
Was that… a future legend? he thought.
Ezra reached room three.
He unlocked it. Entered.
A simple bed. Desk. Candle. Window with old shutters. Wooden floors and stone walls.
He sat on the bed.
Then lay back.
Stared at the ceiling.
Summoned. Ignored. Branded. Watched. Given gold, a knife, a class no one understands.
This world's noisy… But I'm going to carve my place in it.
Ezra lay on his back, arms behind his head, eyes locked on the wooden ceiling above him. The room around him was still, lit dimly by the soft flicker of a candle on the desk. The air smelled faintly of firewood and linen.
So this is it, he thought. A new world. No way back. No guide. Just me… and this weird, dangerous thing inside me.
He sat up slowly, exhaling.
"Open Status."
A violet screen shimmered into existence before him, illuminating his face with a soft glow.
Name: Ezra Carter
Age: 18
Race: Human (Otherworlder)
Level: 1
Class: Gluttony Mage
Titles: Summoning Accident, The Unchosen
HP: 230 / 230
MP: 410 / 410
Strength: 8
Agility: 11
Endurance: 9
Mana: 15
Luck: 6
Charm: 5
Hunger Level: Moderate
Unique Skill – Devour
Description: Consume magical creatures, items, or energy to absorb their essence. May gain their traits, stats, or abilities.
Devouring sentient beings may affect the user's mental stability.
Success rate depends on target resistance, user's current hunger level, and proximity.
Effects of Devour are unpredictable and can evolve over time.
Ezra stared at the description for a long moment.
Devour... So I can absorb things. Skills. Power. Traits. But the price… corruption? Mental instability? He narrowed his eyes. Sounds dangerous. But also... limitless.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
If I want to survive here, I need strength. This world doesn't care who you were—it only cares about power. And Devour… might be the only path I've got.
He was still lost in thought when a soft knock came at the door.
He stood, stepped across the room, and opened it.
Nia stood there, smiling warmly, a tray of food in her hands. Roasted meat, steamed root vegetables, fresh bread, and a small bowl of what smelled like onion stew.
"Hey," she said, "your food's ready."
Ezra looked at the tray. Steam rose from the food, the scent rich and comforting.
He took the tray. "Thanks."
"No problem," Nia replied. "Let me know if you want anything else."
She turned to leave, but Ezra hesitated.
"Wait," he said.
She paused, looked back. "Yeah?"
"I've got a question."
"Shoot."
"Is there an adventuring guild nearby? I need work."
Nia brightened slightly. "Actually, yeah. Just down the street from here. Called the Iron Fang Adventurer Guild. Good place. Reliable people. They take on all kinds—from rookies to veterans."
Ezra nodded. Iron Fang... Might be a good starting point.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"No. Thanks."
She turned again, then hesitated, glancing back.
"Hey… what's your name, by the way?"
Ezra looked at her. "Ezra… Ezra Carter."
She smiled. "Ezra. Nice to meet you, Ezra Carter."
Ezra gave a small nod.
"Alright," she said. "See you around."
She walked off down the hall.
As the door closed, Nia glanced over her shoulder once more. Ezra Carter, she thought. He's quiet… but there's something about him. Something heavy. Mysterious.
Ezra placed the tray on the desk and sat down. He picked up the spoon and started eating slowly. The food was better than he expected—filling, hearty.
As he ate, he felt something.
A slow calming of his body.
A glow in his chest.
His eyes flashed red—just a flicker—then returned to gold.
He froze.
Hunger level... decreasing. Devour responds to food too? Interesting.
He leaned back in the chair, chewing slowly.
I'll go to that guild later. Join up. Get jobs. Start building strength. Learn what this world really runs on. If nothing else... I'll survive. That's all I've ever done since the crash.
Ezra looked out the small window beside his desk. Sunlight still bathed the rooftops of the city, casting long, golden shadows. The day was far from over.
Still daylight, he thought. No sense wasting time.
I'll head to Iron Fang soon.
A few hours later, Ezra sat up from his bed, brushing the sleep and thought-clouds from his mind. He looked at the soft glow of sunlight still streaming through the window.
He stood, adjusted his coat, and muttered, "Alright. Time to go."
He walked downstairs, the wood creaking beneath his boots. As he reached the main hall of The Broken Chalice Inn, just before he could open the front door, a voice called out.
"How was your food?"
Ezra stopped. Turned.
Nia stood behind the bar, drying a mug with her usual wry smile.
Ezra nodded. "It was good."
"I'm glad," she replied. "Always nice to see someone eat without growling at their meal."
Ezra gave the faintest smirk. Behind her, the old man behind the counter looked up. His eyes met Ezra's and he nodded.
Nia noticed. "That's the owner—Granz 'Iron-Leg' Dorran. Retired adventurer. This whole place? His legacy."
Ezra looked at Granz. Nodded back. Granz smiled.
"Nice to meet you, son," the old warrior said.
Ezra nodded again. "Likewise."
Nia leaned forward. "Where you headed?"
Ezra paused. "To the adventurer guild."
"Ohh! Iron Fang? Awesome. Hope you get accepted. They're picky sometimes, but if you're serious, you'll be fine."
Ezra gave her a short nod and turned to go.
Behind him, Granz and Nia exchanged a glance.
"He barely talks," Nia said under her breath.
Granz chuckled. "Doesn't need to. He's got weight in his silence."
"Yeah," she agreed. "He's mysterious… but something tells me, he's not just another rookie."
—
Ezra stepped back into the streets of the city. The golden hue of late afternoon cast long shadows down the stone roads as crowds passed by, each with their own stories. But Ezra had one focus.
A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a massive structure.
Dark gray stone walls rose like a fortress, framed with enchanted blackwood beams. Three stories tall, with battlement-like architecture and sloped slate roofing. Obsidian gargoyle statues perched at the corners.
Above the huge double doors hung a giant iron emblem—a wolf's fang crushing a monster's skull, runes etched in a circle around it.
The doors were scarred ironwood, thick and heavy, bearing claw marks from beasts long gone.
Ezra stared up at it.
This is the place.
He nodded to himself.
Let's see what I'm made of.
He opened the doors and stepped inside.
The inside of the Iron Fang Adventurer Guild was loud and alive.
Long tables filled the center, packed with adventurers eating, drinking, boasting. Weapons leaned against walls. Maps and mission boards lined the sides. Fires crackled in hearths. The smell of roasted meat and spiced ale filled the air.
There were all kinds of people.
Humans. Beastkin. Dwarves. Elves. Even a towering reptilian demi-human in a black cloak.
Voices dropped as the doors creaked shut behind Ezra.
A few nearby adventurers turned.
"New guy?"
"Never seen him before."
"Think he's here to join?"
"He looks serious. Quiet ones are usually dangerous."
Ezra ignored the whispers, walking straight ahead. His eyes landed on a polished desk near the left wall, where several staff members helped applicants.
One woman caught his attention immediately.
She stood behind the desk, posture sharp and upright.
Slim, elegant. Pale ivory skin, citrine-gold eyes that saw too much. Long hair flowing in a teal-to-indigo ombré, braided to one side. She wore a navy-blue guild uniform trimmed with silver embroidery. A fang-shaped pin on her collar marked her as senior staff.
She noticed him before he even spoke.
"Welcome to Iron Fang Adventurer Guild," she said crisply. "I'm Lysette Arven. How can I help you?"
Ezra thought she was striking—beautiful, composed—but he kept his tone level.
"I'd like to join the guild."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued.
New. Polite. Calm. Not a rookie type, she thought.
"Well then, Mr. …?"
"Ezra. Ezra Carter."
"Well, Mr. Carter," she said with a polite smile, "joining the guild isn't complicated, but we do have procedures. First, we need to scan your magical affinity. Standard protocol. Determines whether you can use magic and if so, what kind."
She gestured to a small pedestal on the desk. Atop it sat a smooth, crystalline orb, gently pulsing with pale light.
"Place your hand on the orb. Let your mind remain calm. It will read your latent affinity and magical properties."
Ezra stared at the orb.
Guess this is it. Time to see what I really am.
He placed his hand on the orb.
At first, the orb glowed a soft blue. But then it began to change.
The light deepened to violet. Then pulsed. Symbols swirled within its core, flickering runes flashing too quickly to read.
Ezra's breath caught.
A strange sensation crawled up his arm. A dull heat. Then a tug—like something deep inside him was stirring, responding.
The orb's glow began to flicker violently.
Ezra's heart pounded. His eyes widened slightly. He could feel it—Devour was reacting. Not by command, but instinct. Like it sensed the magic inside the orb… and wanted it.
His stomach twisted with heat, not pain, but hunger.
The orb's runes turned chaotic, lines wrapping around his palm like vines.
Ezra gritted his teeth.
What's happening? Why do I feel like I'm absorbing something?
Inside his chest, something pulsed once. Then again. A throb of ancient magic responding to a hungering presence. Not malevolent, but primal.
His golden eyes flared crimson—just for a heartbeat.
Lysette, watching the whole time, tensed. Her fingers twitched near a wand beneath the desk.
It's… devouring the scan itself, she realized. That's not a reaction to the spell. That's an override.
The orb's glow began to stabilize. Slowly, the lines faded. The runes dispersed.
Ezra pulled his hand back, his fingers trembling slightly.
Lysette took a breath.
"Well... that's definitely not standard."
Ezra asked quietly, "Did it work?"
She nodded slowly. "It did. You have magical affinity. Strong... but unstable. Not elemental. Not arcane. It's something else entirely. We'll classify you as 'Special' for now."
Ezra lowered his hand. The heat had faded. But the echo of the hunger remained.
Devour… absorbed part of that. I didn't tell it to. It just… acted.
He exhaled. Steady again.
I need to learn more about this power.
Lysette studied him carefully. You're not just another wanderer, she thought. You're something else. Something strange. Possibly dangerous.
Ezra glanced back at her. "So… what's next?"
She blinked, then gave a short nod. "Right. Next step is your practical evaluation. All new applicants undergo a basic field assessment. It's how we test your combat ability, instincts, and mental control. Especially with powers we don't fully understand yet."
Ezra tilted his head slightly. "Where does that happen?"
"We have an internal testing arena behind the guild hall. There's a small team of registered observers and one proctor. You'll be given a mock assignment and either a monster-type summon or live capture scenario. Don't worry, we won't throw you against a dragon or anything."
Ezra raised a brow. "I wasn't worried."
Lysette cracked a smile. "Confident. Good."
She slid a small iron badge across the counter. "Take this to the guild handler at the back. Name's Darnan. He'll prep you for your trial. If you pass, you'll be formally inducted into Iron Fang."
Ezra picked up the badge.
She watched him a moment longer. "Good luck, Ezra Carter. You're going to need it."
Ezra gave a nod and turned toward the rear hallway, ready to take his first step into the world of adventurers.
As he walked away, Lysette's composed expression began to fade. Her sharp eyes narrowed in thought. A crease formed between her brows.
She glanced down at the orb, which now pulsed faintly as if still trembling from the contact.
She muttered, "That wasn't normal. That wasn't even close to safe."
Lysette turned toward one of the inner hallways.
I need to report this to the Guildmaster.
She walked briskly, her thoughts racing.
That boy… Ezra Carter… he didn't just react to the scan—he devoured it. His magic isn't wild, it's hungry. And that's something we've never seen in this guild before.
She clenched her fist slightly.
If we let that kind of power grow without oversight, it could be more dangerous than we can control. The Guildmaster needs to know immediately.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she disappeared from the main chamber.
—
She stopped at a heavy oaken door, reinforced with black iron and etched with old guild runes. A brass plate read: Guildmaster's Office.
Lysette raised her hand and knocked firmly.
A calm, gravel-edged voice from within replied, "Come in."
She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it quietly behind her.
The office was dimly lit, lined with towering bookshelves and weapon racks. The scent of aged parchment, steel, and faint incense filled the air.
At the far end, a large chair faced the tall window overlooking the guild training grounds. The figure seated in it didn't turn.
"Lysette," the Guildmaster said. "What brings you so quickly?"
She stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Guildmaster… we have a situation."
The Guildmaster's voice was calm. "Then come in, and let's talk about it."
She nodded once, then advanced toward the desk, her hands tightening at her sides.
Behind the chair, the Guildmaster remained still—watching the courtyard through narrow eyes, the light casting his silhouette like a statue carved from dusk.
Lysette's voice was steady but firm.
"There's a new applicant. One you need to hear about. His presence... it's not ordinary. It's something else entirely."
To be continued...