My Dragon Devouring System

"Welcome to the chilling adventure of how much my life sucks." Justin, a thirty-five-year-old man, muttered bitterly to himself, sprawled out on the tattered mattress of his dingy apartment. His arms were stretched wide, as if he could embrace the void his life had become.

The bare walls around him were empty, devoid of even a flicker of warmth. It was the kind of poverty that gnawed at him relentlessly—so bad that he'd sold his TV, his worn-out sneakers, and even his phone, just to scrape together enough money to pay rent and avoid the cold, unforgiving streets where he had spent far too much of his life already.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen long, painful years since his life had truly collapsed. His parents divorced when he was just a kid, barely fifteen. His mother, desperate and overwhelmed, took custody of him only to abandon him a month later. That's how he ended up kicked out of his house for failing to pay rent.

 The slums became his reality, a place where suffering was an unspoken rule. Abuse, beatings, insults—they all seemed like daily rituals. Yet, through it all, he clung to hope, thin and fragile as it was. 

A faint glimmer arrived when a kind stranger—his one Good Samaritan—offered him a job at his office. A stranger who saw more than just a broken man. That was when everything changed. For five years, Justin had worked tirelessly, clinging to the hope that things might change.

"If only I could get that promotion tomorrow instead of that prick Jason…" he whispered, the weight of his empty stomach making every word a struggle. His stomach growled in protest. He hadn't eaten anything all day. Just a cheap cup of synthetic coffee. Yes of course, those ones riff-raffs like him had access to. 

 "I could buy a better TV, maybe get a phone, pay rent, and—hell, maybe—just maybe—have a decent meal for once." His voice cracked, the sound of hunger and desperation lacing every syllable.

But the dream felt distant, like a mirage in the desert. 

"Tsk… promotion? Ha, yeah, right. Maybe I just dream too big," he said to himself, as his eyelids drooped heavily. Sleep was creeping in, though he fought it. He feared sleep—not because he was afraid of dreams, but because each night, he worried he might drift off and never wake up again.

But exhaustion didn't care. His body shut down before his thoughts could spiral any further. 

Morning came too soon.

The blaring alarm yanked him up from sleep, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the time. He had missed the alarm five times. Panic surged through him. 

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, jumping out of bed without even a second thought. No time to shower, no time to brush his teeth. He grabbed his crumpled jacket and bolted out the door, catching the first bus to work.

At the office, he greeted his colleagues with forced smiles and obligatory bows, nodding his head to people who were younger than him but outranked him nonetheless. His pride had long been sacrificed at the altar of survival.

'Here we go again…' He sighed internally, forcing a smile as he saw Jason strutting towards him. Jason, his nemesis in every sense of the word. 

"Justin, you made it," Jason said, smirking. "You know you're late, right? You should've taken your time—maybe skipped today altogether, that way you could've missed the appointment for the position today. Not like it matters, though. We all know this promotion is mine." Jason sneered, flashing a grin that only deepened Justin's irritation.

"Here," Jason said suddenly, handing him a warm cup of coffee, catching him off guard for a split second. 

Justin hesitated, surprised for a moment. Jason? Giving him coffee? That was new. 

"No need to look so surprised. It's just a little something to celebrate my promotion in advance," Jason added, his smirk widening.

Justin forced a smile, adjusting his glasses with shaking fingers. 

"Well, thanks, sir Jason," he replied, the sarcasm buried under layers of practiced politeness. He had been faking smiles for so long, he couldn't even remember what a real one felt like. 

Still, coffee was coffee. And right now, he really needed it. He took a quick sip, gulping it down like his life depended on it. 

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Jason chuckled, his smirk widening. 

That's when Justin noticed something was off. The coffee tasted… strange. Bitter in a way it shouldn't be. 

Jason leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. 

"You know, I've never seen someone down a coffee mixed with my piss so fast before."

Time seemed to freeze. Laughter erupted from the office, but all Justin could hear was the roaring in his ears. He felt the coffee churn in his stomach, the bitter taste turning vile. Slowly, he tipped the remaining liquid back into the cup, fighting the urge to vomit.

'This bastard…' Justin clenched his fists, teeth grinding in barely controlled rage. But before he could react, the boss's bell rang, signaling a meeting with all the staff.

The room fell silent as the boss took his place at the front. 

"After much consideration," he began, "We have concluded and decided that this promotion goes to none other than… Mr. Justin! Congratulations!" 

For a moment, Justin thought he had misheard. The entire office fell silent, stunned. Even Jason looked frozen in shock. 

'What?!' His mind raced, struggling to process the words. 'Is this… a dream?'

Before he could stop them, tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. 

For the past ten years, he and Jason had been locked in a silent war for this promotion. They were the same age, held the same position, but Jason had been in the company a little longer. And with the way the boss always treated him like a golden child, Justin had been certain—dead sure—that the position would go to Jason. 

But it didn't. 

It went to him. Him.

As the meeting ended, colleagues offered half-hearted congratulations. But Justin didn't care—he was walking on air. He left the building, basking in a happiness he hadn't known in years. Finally, his dreams were within reach. He could afford rent, maybe even buy a proper meal tonight.

But what he did notice—what brought him the most satisfaction—was the look on Jason's face. 

Jealousy. Hatred. Pure, unfiltered rage. 

And damn, it felt good.

Justin made his way down to the subway, blending into the crowd as he waited for the train to arrive. He exhaled deeply, still riding the high horse of his victory. 

This was it. A fresh start and a new life.

The distant rumble of the train grew louder, the headlights cutting through the tunnel's darkness. Just a few more seconds. 

Then—just at that moment, he suddenly slipped, no, more like pushed.

Time seemed to slow down as he stumbled over the edge of the railway. Panic surged through his veins as he twisted midair, his eyes locking onto the face of his attacker. 

Jason. 

The smug bastard stood there, watching him fall, his expression a twisted mix of satisfaction and cruelty. 

'Tsk.. so this is it. This is how it ends…' Justin thought. But even in his final moments, he refused to go out like a loser. 

With a smirk, he lifted his hand and managed one last defiant gesture—a middle finger aimed squarely at Jason.

I still won.

And then it was nothing but silence and an endless darkness. 

"Ahhhhhh!" A sudden scream ripped through the silence as a boy jolted upright in bed, his chest rising and falling in panic.

His hands shot up to his neck, then his arms, frantically searching for injuries.

But there was nothing, hell even his skin felt smooth-unusually smooth.

His heart pounded in his ears as he looked around. The room was unfamiliar. The air smelled different.

"What the fuck"….