I Siphon the Dead to Become the Strongest

Ethan stood in the center of the devastation, staring at his obsidian-black gauntlets. He slowly clenched his fist, feeling the raw, humming vibration of power coursing through the armor. It felt like he was holding a thunderstorm in the palm of his hand.

“This...” Ethan murmured, his voice resonating with a metallic, otherworldly depth. “This is actually insane. I’m basically living in a high-budget anime right now. I’ve got the armor, the dramatic cape, the monochromatic aesthetic... I’m a walking piece of concept art.”

But as the adrenaline spiked, the familiar weight of dread returned. The excitement vanished, replaced by a cold, creeping shiver.

“And this... this is exactly why I’m terrified to use this thing,” he whispered, his posture slumping even in the majestic armor. “This power... it doesn’t belong to me. It’s not mine. The real question is how and why do I even have this? I don’t remember siphoning something this... absolute. I’m just a lazy E-Ranker. I’m not supposed to be a vessel for whatever this nightmare is—”

CRASH!

Ethan’s internal monologue was violently interrupted.

From the wreckage of the forest, a second wave of Ogres erupted from the brush, their eyes bloodshot and filled with primal rage. One of them, a particularly massive beast with a scar running across its snout, had managed to flank him. With a roar of guttural hatred, the Ogre swung a massive, iron-studded mace in a devastating arc, aimed directly at the back of Ethan’s helmet.

The impact was thunderous.

K-CHAK!

The sound wasn’t the wet crunch of a skull collapsing. Instead, it was the sound of high-grade timber meeting an immovable diamond wall. Upon contact with Ethan’s head, the massive mace didn’t just break—it disintegrated. The wood exploded into a thousand jagged splinters, raining down around Ethan like lethal confetti.

Ethan’s head merely swayed to the side from the momentum, like a blade of grass bending in a light breeze. He remained standing, completely unmarked, staring blankly into the distance.

“Holy shit...” Ethan deadpanned, his voice flat. “I didn’t even notice that one.”

The Ogre, staring at its now-empty hands in sheer confusion, let out a scream of frustration. It didn’t hesitate. It coiled its massive, muscle-bound arm, pulling its fist back until the muscles groaned under the tension, and unleashed a point-blank punch with enough force to level a small building.

Ethan didn’t move. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t counter.

Instead, he closed his eyes. He didn’t do it because he was brave. He didn’t do it because he was confident. He did it because he was absolutely terrified and his brain’s only survival mechanism was to pretend he wasn’t there.

BOOM!!!

The impact sounded like a cannon firing in a closed room. The shockwave ripped through the grass, sending a cloud of dust billowing outward.

Slowly, Ethan opened one eye.

He was still standing. And there, held firmly in his black-armored palm, was the Ogre’s massive fist. Ethan had caught the punch. He hadn’t even braced himself; he had simply... stopped it. Effortlessly. It was as if a mountain had tried to push a pebble, and the pebble had simply said, “No.”

The Ogre’s eyes widened. It tried to pull its hand back, but Ethan’s grip was an iron vice.

“You know,” Ethan sighed, his voice dripping with an exhausted, sarcastic edge. “I’m really starting to hate the ‘main character’ energy. It’s so... taxing.”

The Ogre let out a deafening roar of panic, but Ethan was already moving. With a sharp, guttural grunt of effort—more for the dramatic effect than the actual weight—Ethan gripped the creature’s wrist and hoisted the multi-ton monster into the air with a single hand.

The Ogre flailed its legs uselessly in the air, looking like a very large, very confused green beetle.

“Since you brought your friends,” Ethan muttered, “it only seems fair that I return the favor.”

With a violent, effortless heave, Ethan hurled the Ogre backward. The creature became a living projectile, screaming as it flew through the air and slammed directly into the chest of the charging Ogre frontline, bowling them over like a set of giant, fleshy bowling pins.

CRASH!

Ethan stood there, his cape fluttering, looking profoundly bored.

“Seriously... why is fighting so exhausting? I can feel my nap-meter hitting zero. I’m going to need a ten-year sleep after this.”

To understand the ”Heavenly Demon” state, you have to understand that it’s not just a costume change—it’s a biological cheat code. The ability is a unique siphoned power that acts as a terrifying amplifier. Depending on the source, it can triple the host’s attack, speed, or durability. But the real ”broken” part? The Heavenly Demon’s own base stats are added on top of the multipliers. It’s basically taking a calculator and hitting the ”x3” button on a number that was already too high.

Of course, for Ethan, this just means he has more power to be exhausted by.

As the next wave of Ogres—who were looking particularly grumpy about the whole ”getting thrown into trees” incident—closed in, Ethan braced himself. He crossed his arms in a classic ”I’m-too-cool-for-this” defensive posture just as the lead Orc delivered a full-power mace swing point-blank to his chest.

K-BOOOOM!!!

The impact was visceral. The shockwave ripped through the air, and for the first time, Ethan actually felt the punch. He was sent skidding backward, his boots carving two deep trenches into the emerald grass for several meters before he finally ground to a halt.

He stood there, panting slightly, his armor humming. He looked down at the Orc’s mace—or what was left of it. The Orc’s hand was a disaster; the skin was bruised a sickly shade of violet, and thick, purple blood was dripping from its knuckles, as if it had just punched a mountain made of reinforced titanium.

Ethan blinked, looking toward the horizon where more and more Ogres were emerging from the trees in an endless, green tide.

“Are you kidding me?” Ethan groaned, his voice echoing through the helmet. “There are so many of them. Please tell me this isn’t turning into one of those weird R-18 genres where the monsters swarm the protagonist. Heck no! If I’m going to suffer through that, I’ll just stay home and watch Rule34 in peace. At least there, I can pause the video to take a nap!”

Then, something caught his eye.

Behind the visor, Ethan’s eyes widened. He watched the bruised hand of the Orc that had hit him. Right before his eyes, the purple blood began to recede. The skin was knitting itself back together, the bruises fading in real-time. The wound was closing with an aggressive, unnatural speed.

‘Wait... what the hell?’ Ethan thought. ‘Is this a dream? Am I hallucinating from lack of sleep?’

It clicked. These weren’t new reinforcements. These were the same idiots he had blasted away during his ”cool transformation” sequence earlier. These C-Rank Ogres possessed a passive ability: [Regeneration of the Wild]. Basically, unless you delete them from existence, they just keep coming back for more, like the world’s most persistent and ugly boomerangs.

Ethan let out a long, suffering sigh that sounded like a deflating balloon.

“I don’t have all day for this,” he muttered. “I have a date with a very large pillow and a very soft blanket.”

He shifted his stance, aiming his hand forward like a spear. He pulled his arm back slowly, then widened his fingers one by one, as if he were trying to pluck a very large, invisible grape from the air.

“This is my first time actually using a soul-stolen ability,” Ethan whispered, his voice suddenly sounding a bit green. “Damn it... I think I’m actually going to puke. This feeling is disgusting. It’s like my soul is wearing a sweater that’s three sizes too small and made of itchy wool.”

He paused, a look of genuine existential horror crossing his face behind the mask.

“Come to think of it... I don’t even know what my original ability is. I’ve spent so much time siphoning other monster’s powers that I’ve completely forgotten my own. Talk about being a total dumbass. I’m a professional thief who forgot what he was originally stealing for.”

One second, Ethan was standing there, complaining about his lack of identity. The next—ZIP—he simply ceased to exist in that spot.

He didn’t just move; he blurred, leaving a faint, distorted trail in the air. He reappeared instantly behind the same Ogre that had just finished healing its hand. The Ogre didn’t even have time to blink. The monster’s eyes were still scanning the area for the ”tiny human” when it suddenly realized that the air felt a bit... light. Specifically, the air around its neck felt very light.

Ethan was standing there, his arm extended, his armored fingers gripped firmly around the Ogre’s head like he was holding a very large, very gross basketball.

The Ogre’s brain took a few seconds to process the situation. It registered a sudden lack of vision, followed by a sudden lack of everything. Then, with a wet, sickening SPLAT, the headless body collapsed, blood geysering upward like a fountain of purple paint from a ruptured pipe. The body hit the ground with a heavy, lifeless thud.

“Gross,” Ethan muttered, flicking his hand as if he had just touched something slimy. “Seriously, why do they have to be so... squishy?”

The remaining Ogres didn’t stop to mourn their headless friend. In a frenzy of primate rage, they unleashed a coordinated storm of wooden maces and gigantic fists, all descending upon Ethan at once. It was a wall of crushing force that should have turned him into a thin layer of jam.

But Ethan vanished again.

WHOOSH.

The maces collided with nothing but air, the Ogres stumbling over each other in their haste to crush him. High above them, suspended in the clear blue sky, Ethan reappeared. He was glancing down at the gathered hoard, his expression—hidden by the mask—likely one of profound irritation.

He extended his right hand forward, aiming it directly at the center of the mob, while his left hand pulled back slowly, gathering a concentrated sphere of energy that made the air scream in protest.

“I really... really... just want to go home,” Ethan groaned.

He let out a sharp, guttural grunt of exertion—”HNGH!”—and launched himself downward.

He didn’t fall; he plummeted like a kinetic missile. He reappeared in the absolute center of the Orc army, his fist burying itself deep into the ground with a bone-shaking impact. For a heartbeat, there was total silence.

Then, the world turned yellow.

KRA-KOOOOOOOM!!!

Yellow lightning didn’t just sparkle; it detonated. A massive, blinding explosion of electrical energy crackled outward from Ethan’s fist, shredding the ground into a crater of molten glass. The sound was a deafening, synchronized snap—like a thousand oversized whips made of thunder striking the earth at once.

The Ogres in the immediate vicinity didn’t even have time to scream. The lightning surged through them, frying their nervous systems and cooking them from the inside out in a fraction of a second. In a flash of blinding gold, the monsters were turned into blackened, smoking husks, and then, with a final pop, they crumbled into fine, grey ashes.

The wind blew the ashes away, leaving nothing but a scarred, smoking wasteland and one very tired man in a white coat.

[Unique Skill: True Thunder]

Ethan remained in the crater, his fist still buried in the dirt. He stayed there for a long moment, his shoulders heaving.

“...I think I just burned my calories for the next three years,” Ethan whispered, his voice sounding completely drained. “I can feel my soul leaving my body. If I stay here for another five minutes, I might actually just become a permanent part of the landscape. Is it too late to ask for a refund on this power?”

---

Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter of Ethan’s reluctant bad-assery!

Seeing a chronically exhausted, sleep-deprived E-Ranker force himself to pull out an insanely OP transformation just so he can go back to sleep (and pay his sister’s tuition) is honestly my favorite trope to write. The contrast between his inner whining and the raw, world-shattering destruction of the Heavenly Demon state never gets old!

To everyone who took the time to read this chapter today:

May peace, rest, and comfort rest upon your heart tonight. May God/the Universe grant you renewed strength, clear away the exhaustion and burdens of your daily battles—just like Ethan clearing that gate—and fill your life with warmth, quiet moments, and steady joy. If you’re going through a tough season right now, know that you are loved, supported, and never truly alone.

Since it’s nighttime over here where I am, I want to wish every single one of you a pleasant, restful night! Get some good sleep, charge your batteries, and don’t overwork yourselves.

Catch you all in the next chapter—leave your thoughts and poll answers below! 😴✨