The sensation of a blade through the throat is surprisingly quiet.
There is no dramatic music, no final heroic speech. There is only the wet thud of blood hitting the floor and the agonizingly slow realization that you are dying.
Lucian Thorne lay on the cold flagstones of the Thorne Estate's Great Hall. Above him, the ceiling he had looked at every day for twenty-one years was obscured by thick, acrid smoke. The banners of his house—a silver hawk on a field of midnight blue—were catching fire, curling into blackened ash.
"Look at me, Lucian," a voice commanded.
Lucian turned his head, a movement that cost him the last of his strength. Standing over him was his eldest brother, Cassian. His brother's golden armor wasn't even scuffed. In his hand, he held the ancestral blade, Frostbite, its edge stained with Lucian's blood.
"You were always the defect," Cassian sneered, his eyes cold. "A 'Vessel' born with a hole in the bottom. You wasted our father's resources, our family's prestige. Selling you to the High Elves as a sacrifice was the only way you were ever going to be useful to this House."
Lucian tried to speak, but only a crimson bubble escaped his lips. I loved you, he wanted to say. I looked up to you.
"Don't look so pathetic," Cassian said, turning away as the sound of screaming servants echoed from the courtyard. "Die quietly. It's the only dignified thing you've ever done."
The darkness rushed in then, cold and absolute. Lucian felt his heart give one final, pathetic flutter.
If there is a God... if there is any justice... let me tear it all down. Let me eat the world that spat me out.
[Synchronizing...]
[Willpower Threshold Met: 100/100]
[The Gluttony System has found a host.]
[Initiating Chrono-Sync... Target Date: Year 472, Awakening Day.]
Lucian bolted upright with a gasp that tore through his lungs.
He wasn't on the cold stone floor. He was sitting on a bed—a soft, four-poster bed draped in silk. The air didn't smell like blood and smoke; it smelled of lavender and expensive beeswax.
He scrambled out of the covers, his legs tangling in the sheets, and fell onto the floor. He scrambled toward a full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
A face stared back at him. It was his face, but younger. The gaunt, haunted look of a man who had lived through five years of war was gone. His skin was pale, his dark hair messy from sleep, and most importantly, his throat was smooth and unscarred.
"Sixteen..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm sixteen again."
It was the morning of the Awakening Ceremony. The day his life had officially ended in his previous timeline. In a world where Mana was everything, Lucian had been tested and found to have a "Mana Capacity" of zero. He was a "Null"—a biological dead end.
Suddenly, a flicker of light appeared in his peripheral vision.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Host: Lucian Thorne]
[Class: None]
[Level: 1]
[Current Soul Points (SP): 10]
[Unique Trait: The Devourer (Rank: ???) — You cannot store Mana. You must consume it.]
Lucian stared at the floating text. A System? He had heard of ancient artifacts and "Blessed" heroes who possessed strange interfaces, but this felt different. It felt dark. It felt... hungry.
A sharp knock at the door startled him.
"Young Master Lucian? Your brother is requesting your presence in the Training Hall. The carriages for the Cathedral leave in one hour."
It was Martha, the head maid. In the old timeline, she had been executed by the High Elves during the purge. Hearing her voice brought a lump to Lucian's throat, but he forced it down. He couldn't afford to be sentimental. Not today.
"I'll be down in ten minutes, Martha," he called out.
He dressed quickly, his fingers trembling as he buckled his leather belt. He skipped the heavy ceremonial robes, opting for a simple, tight-fitting tunic. If this System was real, he needed to test it.
As he walked through the corridors of the Thorne Estate, memories assaulted him. Every painting, every vase, every rug was a reminder of a future that hadn't happened yet. He reached the Training Hall, the heavy oak doors swinging open to reveal a scene of organized violence.
Knights in silver plate were sparring, the ring of steel on steel filling the air. And in the center stood Cassian.
At nineteen, Cassian was already a prodigy. He was mid-spar with a veteran knight, moving with a fluid, terrifying grace. With a flick of his wrist, Cassian's practice sword glowed with a faint blue light.
Frost Magic.
Cassian tapped the knight's chest, and a layer of ice instantly crystallized over the man's armor, freezing him in place.
"Too slow, Sir Kael," Cassian said, his voice dripping with the same arrogance Lucian remembered from the moment of his death.
Cassian turned and saw Lucian standing by the door. A smirk played on his lips. "Ah, the guest of honor has arrived. Ready to show the Kingdom what a 'Zero' looks like, little brother?"
The knights chuckled. Lucian didn't flinch. Instead, he focused his gaze on Cassian.
[Target: Cassian Thorne]
[Mana Density: 440 (A-Rank)]
[Core Type: Frost/Sword]
[Warning: Host is currently 1/100th the strength of the target.]
[Option: Extract 'Drop of Talent'? (Cost: 10 SP)]
Yes, Lucian thought, the word echoing in his mind like a roar. Extract.
[Extraction initiated... Target: Cassian Thorne (Frost Affinity).]
[Processing... 1%... 50%... 100%.]
[Success! You have stolen a 'Trace of the Frost Core'.]
Across the room, Cassian suddenly stumbled. He gasped, clutching his chest, his face turning momentarily pale. The blue light on his sword flickered and died.
"Cassian? Are you alright?" Sir Kael asked, breaking free from the ice.
"I... I'm fine," Cassian hissed, shaking his head. "Just a sudden chill. Probably the mana exhaust."
He looked back at Lucian, his eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at, brat? Get to the carriage."
Lucian didn't respond. He couldn't. Inside his body, a cold, piercing energy was screaming. It felt like he had swallowed a shard of dry ice. It burned through his veins, searching for a place to settle, but because he had no Mana Core, it began to dissolve into his very muscles and bones.
[Trace of Frost Core absorbed.]
[Passive Skill Gained: Cold Resistance (Level 1)]
[Stat Increase: Agility +2, Intelligence +1]
The hunger in Lucian's gut subsided, replaced by a cold, predatory calm.
In his first life, he had spent years begging for a crumb of talent, for a single drop of mana. He had begged his family for love and his enemies for mercy.
As he walked toward the carriage, Lucian felt a dark smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't going to beg anymore.
If the world was a banquet of power, he was no longer a guest. He was the apex predator.
"The Awakening Ceremony," Lucian whispered to himself, stepping into the carriage. "Let's see what they say when the 'Empty Vessel' starts overflowing."