The only thing I ever had going for me was my looks. People always said I was handsome at family gatherings, the kind of kid who’d “grow up to be trouble for the girls”. Aunts pinched my cheeks, uncles nudged me and laughed about how I’d have no problem getting dates. They all assumed life would just hand me something because of my face.
When I hit my twenties, everything changed. People stopped saying those things. The looks didn’t matter anymore. And when people looked at me, they didn’t see a promising young man—they just saw another guy wasting potential.
Three years ago...
“Look at this guy right here. Born with that face, yet can’t find a girlfriend. Hah!” My uncle slung an arm around me at the dinner table, his breath heavy with beer. Playful, sure. But the bite in his voice wasn’t just humor. It was jealousy. Envy, maybe, at the youth he wasted. Or maybe he just wanted to remind me that I wasn’t doing as well as everyone once thought I would.
I shoved him off, standing up. “I’m going to my room.”
“Where you going, kid? You just turned twenty-one! It’s your birthday!” He laughed, raising his glass like the whole family should join in.
“I’m not thirsty.”
He waved me off, smirking. “Fine then. Bedtime for you anyway.”
I didn’t look back. I told myself I was the bigger man. But walking up those stairs, all I felt was small. Smaller than him. Smaller than everyone at that table.
One year ago...
The table rattled as Rack slapped it. “Twenty! Holy shit!” He pointed across at me, grinning like a maniac. “You might die, bro!”
The DM slid the die toward me. “I’m praying for you, bud.”
I’d been playing Seth Lamina for a year. A year of late-night games, side stories, roleplay, battles that bonded us. He wasn’t just a character. He was mine.
I rolled the die. A one.
The DM winced. “Seth Lamina throws a punch. The goblin dodges. Swings back with a mace. Despite the difference in strength… Seth is dead. One blow.”
Rack cackled. “Hah! How do you roll a one there?!”
I stood up, grabbed my jacket. “See you guys later.”
I never saw them again.
A stupid thing to walk out over. But it wasn’t about Seth. It was about everything. Losing. Failing. Always folding when things didn’t go my way.
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Six months ago...
I laid back in my office chair, the blue glow of the monitor reflecting off my face. Another long day of busywork, another paycheck I could barely stretch. My shoulders ached, wrists stiff from typing reports that didn’t matter. I was just about to shut everything down when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Where’s the paperwork I asked?”
I blinked. What paperwork? I spun my chair around and looked up. Janice stood there with that smug tilt of her chin. She was queen of the cubicles.
“You never asked me for any paperwork.” I said flatly.
Janice planted her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. “I did, Niko. You said you’d bring it to my desk.”
This woman. Always clinging to scraps of authority. I was the one she crushed most often.
I exhaled slowly through my nose. “What do you need done?”
She sighed too, loud and theatrical, like I was the one making life hard for her. “It should’ve been done already. I emailed it to you.”
I turned back to my monitor, jaw tight. My inbox blinked. The email timestamp read ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes. She sent it, waited five, then waddled all the way across the office just to catch me before I left.
I clenched my teeth, but when I swiveled back around, I forced a smile. “I’ll get it done quickly.”
Another late night. Another hour stolen.
Two weeks ago...
“Give me your money.”
The masked man’s gun barrel stared me in the face, right outside the gas station. His voice was flat, impatient.
My hands went up. My voice shook. “It’s in my right pocket... please, don’t kill me.”
Terrible luck. Terrible city. New York had promised opportunity, energy, excitement. Instead I got a hole-in-the-wall apartment, a miserable job, and nights like this. I should’ve stayed in Maine, even if it was nothing but hicks and boredom. At least hicks protected their own.
The guy rifled my wallet, tossed back my ID and credit card. “I don’t need your name if you’re carrying this much.”
I always carried cash. I liked things I could touch. It made me feel secure.
He grinned. “This money just saved your life.” Then vaulted the fence into the alley.
Two thousand gone. A week’s pay, just like that. I shoved my ID back into my pocket, not even angry. People had always run me over. What was one more?
Then I heard the gunshot.
Screw it.
I vaulted the same fence, lungs burning, sprinting down the alley. When I broke out the other side, I saw her. A woman down on the pavement, blood pooling from her hip. The robber stood over her, gun aimed at her head.
“Hey!” I shouted.
He turned, smirking, the barrel shifting toward me. “What are you doing here?”
I charged. I could take him if I got close. That was what I told myself, anyway. He laughed, finger tightening on the trigger. “Die, then!”
But I didn’t die.
The ground vanished beneath me. Darkness swallowed everything. I fell, screaming, unable to react. My stomach lurched until I slammed onto grass.
The Tower. It pulled me in right there. Saved me from the first brave thing I did. Or damned me.
I don’t know if that woman survived. Maybe the cops got him. Maybe they didn’t. He laughed like a demon, careless with lives. Just like the god standing in front of me.
Takemikazuchi. He’s no different from that robber. Taking. Mocking. Grinning at helpless people.
I’ve always been a loser. My first girlfriend dumped me because I was too scared to defend her when she needed me. I let family disrespect me. I let work consume me. I changed a little bit in this place. I killed, sure. But I only ever fought when I knew I could win. After I was granted this power. I was relatively safe.
I’d been running from fights my whole life.
Scared to fight. Scared to lose. Scared to stand up.
That was me. The me before.
If I could change—if I could finally be the hero I never was!
I tightened my fist.
Then it has to be now!

