Chapter 4: A Taste of Power
Xander stood over the defeated form of his opponent, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his forehead. His hands clenched and unclenched as if trying to rid himself of the energy coursing through his veins. The arena around him seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, the pale glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows on the dirt floor. His first trial was over, and though he had emerged victorious, it was far from a clean win.
The man he had fought—tall, muscular, and seemingly experienced—lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. Xander's last blow had knocked him out cold, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion of the fight but from the realization of what this victory meant.
Xander had entered this world without any idea of what he was walking into, but now he knew: this was no ordinary fight. This wasn't just about winning a simple competition or proving strength. This world, governed by the Mafia System, was a brutal, unforgiving place where only the strong survived and only the ruthless thrived.
"You have successfully defeated your first opponent," the voice of the Mafia System echoed in Xander's mind, its mechanical tone as indifferent as ever. "You have unlocked new abilities. Your strength and speed have been enhanced. You may now access more complex powers as you continue to prove your worth."
Xander blinked, taking in the words. Strength and speed enhanced. He could feel it, too—the surge of energy in his limbs, the way his muscles seemed to stretch and contract with more power than they ever had before. His vision sharpened, his hearing heightened, and his senses flared to life in a way that felt both exhilarating and unsettling.
It was a rush—a heady feeling of power that coursed through his entire being. He felt... invincible, almost. But he quickly shoved that thought aside. Invincibility could lead to arrogance, and arrogance led to failure in this world. He had seen enough in the short time he had been here to know that the Mafia System didn't reward carelessness.
Xander surveyed the rest of the arena, his eyes scanning the other recruits. Some had already claimed victory over their opponents, while others were still locked in combat. He noticed the way some of them carried themselves—calm, assured, with the weight of experience behind their movements. They weren't like him, fresh to this world, still figuring out the rules.
But what caught his attention most was the expression on the faces of the others. It wasn't admiration. No, it was something else—something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They were sizing him up. In this world, a single victory might not be enough to earn respect. But it was certainly enough to make him a target.
"The trial is not over yet," the system's voice reminded him, its cold, dispassionate words cutting through his thoughts. "You must defeat all your opponents to pass the trial. The next round will begin shortly."
Xander's pulse quickened, and a surge of anxiety knotted in his stomach. He couldn't afford to be complacent. Not now. Not when there was so much at stake.
With a deep breath, Xander straightened, forcing the tension from his shoulders. The next round would come fast, and he needed to be prepared. He could already feel the adrenaline starting to fade, leaving him with the sharp sting of exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not here. Not in this place.
He looked to the other recruits, his gaze lingering on the ones who seemed to hold the most sway. There was a tall, dark-haired man with a scar running down his cheek, his eyes cold and calculating. A woman with fiery red hair stood next to him, her arms crossed, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched the others. They were clearly experienced, battle-hardened, and not to be underestimated. But they were also potential allies—or threats, depending on how things went.
Xander's mind whirred. He had learned quickly that survival in this world wasn't just about fighting—it was about navigating the complex web of alliances and betrayals that defined the Mafia System. Strength alone wouldn't be enough. He needed to recruit allies, form partnerships, and—most importantly—keep an eye on his back.
"You must learn to build your own clan," the system reminded him again, its voice suddenly more forceful. "You will need allies to rise through the ranks. Your abilities will grow stronger as you recruit powerful individuals to your cause."
The words echoed in Xander's mind, but he barely had time to process them before the next trial began. The fog that had hung at the edges of the arena began to roll in, thick and oppressive. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. The temperature dropped as the mist swirled around him, and he felt a chill run down his spine.
"The trial has now changed," the system announced. "The arena will be shrouded in fog. Your objective is simple—survive. You must defeat your remaining opponents, but beware—the fog will obscure your vision, and you will not know where your enemies are."
Xander's heart raced. This was different. It was no longer just a test of strength—it was a test of survival. He had to rely on his instincts, his new abilities, and the strength that the Mafia System had granted him. But it wasn't just about physical power. It was about using his wits, adapting quickly, and understanding his enemies.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to clear his mind. His senses sharpened in response, his hearing and sight becoming more attuned to the subtle changes in the air around him. He could hear the faint rustle of footsteps on the dirt, the whisper of cloth brushing against skin, the sharp inhalation of breath as someone prepared to strike.
The fog parted slightly, and Xander's vision cleared just enough for him to catch a glimpse of movement to his right. Without thinking, he darted forward, his body moving faster than it ever had before. His new strength propelled him forward, and he collided with his opponent just as they lunged at him, a fist aimed for his face.
The impact was hard, but Xander managed to grab hold of the man's arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing him to the ground. He moved with the fluidity of someone who had been training for years, though in reality, he was only just beginning to tap into his potential.
The opponent struggled beneath him, but Xander had the upper hand. He was faster, stronger, and more in tune with his surroundings. The fight didn't last long. A quick, decisive move, and the man was out cold, lying unconscious on the ground.
Xander stood, panting, his heart racing in his chest. But there was no time to rest. He had won again, but there were still more opponents to face, and the fog was thickening. He couldn't afford to let down his guard. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
As Xander moved further into the fog, his thoughts raced. The power he had gained was real, and he could feel it—stronger than before, more potent. But this world was a cruel one, and he had already seen the lengths people would go to in order to secure power. If he wasn't careful, he could easily become just another pawn in the system.
The fog swirled around him, the air growing heavier with each passing second. But Xander was ready. His senses were heightened, his mind sharp, and his body more powerful than it had ever been. This was his world now. And he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.
He pushed forward, determined to prove that he was more than just a newcomer in this world. He had tasted power, and now, he was going to take it. He was going to rise through the ranks, build his own clan, and make sure that no one could ever look down on him again.
But the journey would be long, and the challenges would only grow more dangerous with each passing day. He could already feel the weight of it all pressing down on him. In this world, the stakes were higher than anything he had ever known. It was sink or swim, and Xander was determined to swim.
No matter what it took.