The city never noticed him.
Neon lights bled into rain-soaked streets, traffic screamed past, and humans rushed through their small, fleeting lives. Among them walked a boy who did not belong, yet blended in perfectly. He was plain, quiet, forgettable. That was the greatest mercy his bloodline had ever granted him.
Hunger gnawed at him, deep and endless.
Not the hunger of an empty stomach, but something far older. Something that did not end.
People mocked his gift when they learned of it. Gluttony, they called it. A joke among gods. A cosmic trash bin. A power suited only for waste disposal in a modern world obsessed with convenience. No fire. No lightning. No dominion. Just an appetite without limit. Little did they know, the boy's appetite was more than hunger, it was a power waiting to be unleashed, a secret inherited from a god whose fury had shaped the cosmos.
They never asked what he could consume.
He was the second child of his mother, born beneath omens no one bothered to interpret. His father, Leon Hardes - was pride made flesh. A man whose presence alone bent rooms to silence, whose very existence demanded acknowledgment. Rumors whispered that Pride itself had chosen him as a vessel. He had taught him strength, confidence, and fearlessness, but the lessons had not yet taken root.
His elder brother inherited brilliance and hunger of a different kind. The power to copy abilities manifested early, frightening even the gods who observed him from afar. He was never satisfied. Never complete.
And then there was his sister.
Lust incarnate.
Where others demanded fear, she inspired desire. Where others conquered with force, she unraveled wills. Beneath her beauty lay something far more dangerous: control over life itself. She did not merely take strength, she decided who deserved to keep it.
Compared to them, he was nothing.
******
The alley was empty when it happened.
A man stumbled into the darkness, clutching a briefcase like it contained his soul. Tires screeched nearby. Fear thickened the air. Instinct rose before thought.
The boy raised his hand.
The world folded.
Metal, sound, momentum—gone. The briefcase vanished mid-fall. The scattered debris dissolved as though swallowed by an unseen mouth. Even the panic, the raw edge of terror, thinned as it was drawn inward.
The man fell on his butt, startled and shaken. He stared at empty space where something should have been.
The boy lowered his hand slowly. His hunger eased. Not satisfied, never satisfied, but quiet...
"How... how did you...? The man asked, dazed.
"Go," he said softly.
The man didn't wait.
As footsteps faded, the boy stood alone, rain sliding off his jacket. He exhaled.
They were wrong about him.
They were wrong about gluttony.
Far beyond mortal sight, something ancient stirred. A lineage exiled by gods. A legacy buried under shame and silence.
The weakest had begun to feed.