Advent Of The True Villain

Lin Feng rose painfully from the couch, his stiff legs unsteady as he worked up from the dampness that almost had him grounded. There was this heaviness in his limbs, like every joint had been dragged down under the extensive violence of over a decade. He shuffled over to the small water-damaged dresser in the corner of the room and opened the top drawer. There lay some decent clothes, worn but still holding. A black T-shirt faded at the edges, loose-fitting jeans, with one or two sepia-tinted stains, and well-worn sneakers. There wasn't much here, although they fitted Lin Feng's simple existence-all that he had fallen into.

As he put the clothes on, he could not help but think of his own condition. This body? This withered weak shell? The shrift of someone who was wasted living their lives, not to realize them. Wouldn't be a magic talent, wouldn't be skills, but a mirror reflecting the reality of the situation he has been thrown into. 

Lin Feng stood before the dresser, fingers poised over the clothes, but drew back at the last moment, fists clenched, teeth gritting. He inhaled deep and bellowed in his mind, "System, awake."

Nothing.

He frowned and tried again. This time he took a dramatic stance, his hand extended as if reaching for something thousands of miles away. "Plunder System, arise!"

Again, there was nothing.

He tried for a third time and did it differently this time pressing his fingers to his forehead while muttering a whisper, "Activate. Plunder System, answer me." 

The silence seemed interminable, the only sound in the poorly lit room-the faint whirr of the lights above. He stared at the cracked mirror, conspicuously at himself. Lin Feng sighed impatiently. Could this be true? The system had been supposed to be his way out, but whatever position he took or whatever words he uttered, there was no response.

Grudgingly, deep inside, was a fear that the system might not show up-not this time. The thought was chilling. Without the system, he had nothing.

He let out a bitter laugh, which sounded empty in that small, silence-strung room. "Figures," he said. "Even if I got anything, it's slow thanks to the system; I should have seen it coming."

He felt weak and hollow inside; every part of him battled the strength he wanted. He needed magic, power-to escape this dead-end life. Instead, he was trapped in the same hole of the man whose memories he had inherited-no way out, no system to pull him out of it. 

Lin Feng was suddenly filled with memories of his past life, a bitter reminder of the missed opportunities and futile chances. Weakness filled his limbs, and he felt as if he didn't even have the most basic strength in himself.

"I'm just a loser," he said, fixing his collar. His reflection in the jagged mirror looked back at him, like a mere mockery of a man. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get out of this life with nothing."

Through the mirror, his hand went to his raven-black hair where he gazed at his reflection. There was no strength or magic that he could willing himself into, and without a flicker of magical talent, he was stalled. The Plunder System had not awakened yet, and he was just as helpless as the man whose memories he was now living: weak, powerless, insignificant.

A bitter smile twitched across his lips. "I might just have to claw my way out myself. Nobody else is going to do it for me." 

Lin Feng wore his tattered sneakers, the soles long past their time, and he straightened up with a sigh. He grabbed the tiny set of keys off the chipped table and walked out. Once outside, he turned around and stared at the dark and disorderly room that had now become his home: a mute reminder of the very unpleasant milieu that had been thrown upon him.

He stepped out and felt a faint chill in the morning air. No taxi fare, not enough for a bus; he would walk, although the distance was not long. Each step upon the bumpy surface sent nerves surrounding his heart throbbing with the painful realization of his dismal conditions. Long strides pulled him in, head on, almost enlisted, and," each step, however painful" still kept PlFeng on course," towards what undeniably felt like another day amidst lengthy processes of suffering through entire walks of life beyond what he virtually faced already. 

Lin Feng shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, a mellow chill biting against the skin of his exposed hands. Busy streets that replaced whatever silence was left behind in his apartment. Vendors stood along the sidewalks, their stalls casting muted, colorful glimmers of magic. He met a fire element user who rolled skewers with controlled flames dancing from his fingers, while the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat filled the air. Not far away, a water-element user made spheres of crystal-clear water and sold them as novelty drinks, all while a wind magician blew away the heat from around their stall with precisely controlled drafts of wind.

Lin Feng slowed down, his eyes still glued to the effortless demonstration of magic. Both not only expressed a sorcerer's power but also integrated smoothly into the person's daily life, turning the mundane into something marvelous. They were involved in banter with their customers, not overly cautious but confident in using their magic to gain respect in life and earn a livelihood.

An excruciating pang was nailed in Lin Feng's chest. It was always two different species: magicians and unawakened normals. The idea wasn't new to him, but the graphic portrayal made it hypersensitive. To be a magician was to be a figure of admiration, respect, and, most of the time, fear and appreciation of status in society. Normal people, like Lin Feng, were doomed to overshadowing existence alongside other mortals to do all the dirtiest work while those who awoke their magic are bright like the stars in the sky.

By comparison the common people treatment differs very much unless you have someone in power to back you up. 

He huddled with fists clenched in his pockets, his steps getting quicker as he looked away from what confronted him. Here, too, might means worth. Absent some wands of magic or the crutch of a system, he remained little more than a shadow in a world carved out for the physically endowed. The realization stung, but it was old. It was a crude reminder of how uphill the whole process was and just how far he needed to climb to stand at an equal level.

Lin Feng's eyes came to rest on a vendor selling stuffed buns--the aroma of the baked dough wafting in the air. Behind the counter was a middle-aged woman with a warm but hurried smile, her hands working very quickly to operate the bamboo steamer. The buns were plump, with a translucent skin that allowed a glimpse of the filling. "Two yuan each" was painted in a small sign she had placed beside her.

Lin Feng dug out some crumpled notes from his pocket. He paid four yuan, collecting two juicy buns that he carefully wrapped in some thin white paper. They were warm in his hand, and for a brief instant, comfort illuminated him as the warmth seeped into his fingers.

As he sank his teeth into the first bun, his mind began to race. He could not continue to live like this--just scraping by, this wasted body with no magic talent and no system behind him was not mighty or fitting for great consideration in the eyes of others. He was going to have to try something drastic and give him, if only a miniature, modicum of hope in this most cruel of worlds. 

First step: Survival. I have to keep this body going. Without decent health and stamina, I'm just dead weight. He glanced at the second bun in his hand. Food like this would keep him from starving, but it wouldn't build strength. He needed real nutrition, something sustainable, but that was a problem for another day.

Second step: Information. If magic couldn't awaken naturally, then he had to find another way. Laws, loopholes, forbidden rituals—somewhere, there had to be a method. Knowledge was power, and in a world like this, ignorance was as deadly as starvation.

For now, these two were his priorities. The rest could wait.

He finished the last bite of the bun, his mind still turning. Third step: Money. It didn't matter how he got it—earning, stealing, or conning—without it, he was just another powerless worm in a magician's world.

The bun had disappeared way too fast, and Lin Feng wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; time to hit the jogging track. Even if the pay would be miserable, he could not afford to lose that job. "One step at a time," he muttered while navigating through the crowd. His steps really felt a little lighter now; he was also feeling a little sharper. Though the world doesn't care for him now, one day it will.