Ability Stealer

Andrew's chest tightened as he stared at the glowing notification lingering faintly in the air before him.

You're meant for more. You were secretly chosen for more.

The words felt surreal, even as they faded from view. He blinked, his pulse hammering in his ears.

"Andrew?" Mella's voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. She grabbed his arm and gave it a firm shake. "What's going on? You're acting weird—even for you."

He turned to her, still processing. "You didn't get it?"

Her brow furrowed. "Get what?"

"The notification." His voice dropped, almost conspiratorial. "It... it told me I was chosen. Chosen to stop worlds from turning into wastelands."

Mella's face twisted in skepticism and confusion. "What are you even talking about? I didn't see anything." She stared at him harder.

Andrew hesitated. The system, whatever it was, hadn't stopped him from revealing its message—something it usually wouldn't allow when it came to his abilities.

He found that more unnerving than the notification itself. "It seems fine with me telling you this," he muttered, more to himself than to Mella. But it's weirdly protective of my powers.

Mella raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical but not entirely dismissive look. "The system told you, you're 'chosen' to save worlds? Is that why we are here? I don't know, this is insane but what you're saying sounds even more insane."

"You think I'm joking around in a situation like this."

"... No but. It's... It's just" She held her head. "I don't even know if we are both just seeing things."

Before Andrew could respond, a figure slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He staggered, catching himself in time to keep from falling. The person—a woman with a glowing tattoo across her forehead—stumbled back, her wide eyes locking onto him.

"What—what are you?" she stammered, looking at him as though he were some alien creature.

Andrew ignored the question. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

The woman blinked. "An invasion, you fool! An invasion!"

Without another word, she darted off, her glowing tattoos flaring as she disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

Andrew exchanged a glance with Mella. "An invasion," he said flatly. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, right?"

Mella nodded, her expression grim. "Monsters. It has to be."

Andrew exhaled slowly, trying to steady the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. "And if we're right, the only way out of here is to kill them."

Mella sighed. "Of course it is. I just hope the rules are the same."

The two of them followed the flow of the fleeing villagers, heading against the tide toward the source of the chaos. People shoved past them, their faces etched with sheer panic. A mother clutching a wailing child stumbled and nearly fell, her cries swallowed by the cacophony of terrified voices.

An older man, pale and streaked with dirt, shouted over his shoulder, "They're coming! They'll tear us apart!"

A young boy clung to his father's arm, his eyes wide and tear-filled. "Papa, will we be safe?" he whimpered.

The father's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice shaking. "We have to run, son. Just keep running."

Andrew noticed the size of the settlement—or lack thereof. The buildings were well-constructed, almost elegant, but there weren't many of them. He revised his initial assumption. This wasn't a town—it was a village, albeit one with better quality than anything he'd grown up around.

As they moved, a woman tripped and fell in front of them, her belongings scattered across the dirt. Mella stopped to help her up. "Go! Don't stop for anything!"

the woman gasped before staggering back into the fleeing crowd.

They reached the far edge of the village, where a sturdy wooden gate barred the way. The roaring sounds of something inhuman echoed beyond it, growing louder with each passing second. The archers atop the walls trembled as they strained to see the threat in the distance.

Andrew and Mella barely made it to the gate before the archers noticed them. One shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of fear. "Who are you? Identify yourselves!"

Andrew glanced up, his expression calm but firm. "We're allies," he said, his tone measured.

The archers weren't convinced. Their glowing tattoos shimmered, and bows were drawn taut, arrows aimed squarely at Andrew and Mella.

One of them called out, his voice tight with tension, "Like hell you are!"

Andrew was irritated. He could hear the roars growing closer. "We don't have time for this," he muttered.

He leaped upward, easily scaling the wall in a single motion.

The archers recoiled in shock, some shouting, others pointing their weapons at him. "Stay back!" one cried.

Andrew ignored them, his focus on the horizon. The roar was clearer now, and as his eyes adjusted, he spotted the source of the sound: a group of creatures racing toward the village. They were like foxes, their forms sleek and agile, but their bodies were composed entirely of shimmering, flowing water. The pack numbered about fifteen, their movements almost hypnotic as they loped forward with predatory intent.

Mella climbed up after him, her eyes widening as she saw the creatures. "Well, that's... new," she muttered.

Andrew pointed toward the approaching pack. "They're not too powerful," he said, his mind already analyzing the situation. "At least, they don't look it."

Did he get dropped into the weakest world because he wasn't strong enough yet?

Andrew smirked faintly, but his gaze remained serious. Maybe. Or maybe it's just easing me into things. Either way, they're coming, and we need to deal with them.

The pack of water-foxes was closing in fast, their movements a mix of grace and menace.

Mella glanced at Andrew, her brow furrowed. "I've never seen or heard of water... foxes before."

She extended her hand, and iron spears materialized in midair, floating just above her palm. With a flick of her wrist, the spears shot off toward the foxes.

The first few spears found their marks, piercing through the liquid forms of the creatures. A few collapsed into puddles with faint, gurgling sounds, but others moved with unnatural agility, dodging the projectiles entirely.

"They're agile," Andrew muttered, his eyes narrowing as the foxes began to spread out, making themselves harder targets.

As their numbers dwindled, the remaining foxes changed tactics. Their bodies shimmered and trembled before they launched spheres of water toward the walls. The water balls exploded on impact, sending shockwaves that rattled the structure and drenched everything nearby.

Andrew got his sword ready.