I awoke to the sound of my alarm piercing through the dreary morning air, soaked in sweat. With a groan, I glanced at the clock—8 AM. Rain tapped rhythmically against the windows of my apartment, mirroring the tumult within my mind. Silencing the alarm, I lay still for a moment, grappling with the memories of the previous day.
Had it all been a dream? The vividness of the experience left me questioning reality itself. Yet, there lingered a nagging uncertainty, a sense that what I had encountered was too visceral to be mere imagination. Why, then, could I not recall the events following the absorption of the auroras? Fear crept into my thoughts, a whisper of doubt—had the red vial bestowed upon me not powers, but madness?
Shrugging off the unease, I resolved to carry on with my routine as usual. A firm believer in self-care, I adhered to a regimen of balanced nutrition and rigorous exercise. With a determined sigh, I rose from bed and approached a bowl filled with ice, plunging my face into its icy depths. The shock depuffed my face and jolted me awake, dispelling the lingering tendrils of sleep and heralding the start of another day.
After indulging in my icy ritual for a good two minutes, I move on to my daily stretches. There's something oddly satisfying about the symphony of cracks and pops that emanate from my joints and back as I contort my body. They say it releases dopamine, offering a fleeting sense of relief—a small pleasure in an otherwise mundane routine.
Next comes the cold shower, a practice as polarizing as it is invigorating. Despite the skeptics, I swear by its benefits: a lowered BPM, an uplifted mood, a surge in testosterone, and a bolstered immune system. While some argue the lack of scientific evidence, I'm indifferent. For me, the cold shower serves a higher purpose—it's a disruption, a discomfort that propels me beyond my comfort zone.
After the invigorating shower, I indulge in a moment of self-care, applying a soothing face mask before venturing out to the balcony with a hand-rolled cigarette. For those inclined to the habit, I suggest employing licorice papers; they temper the harshness of tobacco. As a final touch, a sprinkle of mint within offers both fresh breath and a rejuvenating sensation for the lungs.
As I inhale the smoke and survey the cityscape below, there's an abstract notion of Eros that flits through my mind. It's a concept akin to a René Magritte painting—vivid, surreal, and layered with theatrical allusions. Yet, beneath its vibrant hues lies a darker undercurrent, an acknowledgment that true art often requires a measure of cruelty, perhaps even the sacrifice of those beneath us.
I made my way to the balcony for a smoke, as was my routine. But as I stepped out, the scene that greeted me was beyond belief. The streets below were engulfed in chaos—people looting, fighting, and wreaking havoc upon the city. It was a spectacle of disorder, a canvas of anarchy painted with strokes of madness.
In that moment, as I observed the pandemonium unfolding before me, I felt a surge of exhilaration. The stage was set, the actors were in place, and the grand performance was about to commence. With a flick of my cigarette, I cast it into the air, only to watch in astonishment as it sailed with unnatural speed, finding its mark on the head of an unfortunate soul below, piercing his skull like a shard of glass.
So, this was no mere dream. The surge of power coursing through me confirmed it. I retreated indoors and began to shadowbox, my movements fluid yet devastating. Each punch carried the weight of a wrecking ball, each step felt like a lightning bolt. It was as if I had become an embodiment of raw strength and agility, akin to a supercharged version of Muhammad Ali.
As I danced through the motions, I couldn't help but draw parallels to the effects of performance-enhancing substances like Trenbolone or testosterone replacement therapy. These compounds, utilized by bodybuilders to amplify their physical prowess, seemed to pale in comparison to the potency coursing through my veins. With every strike, every twist of my body, I felt unstoppable.
But amidst the adrenaline rush, I knew I needed clarity. To unravel the depths of my newfound abilities, I needed a clear mind. And what better path to mental clarity than through meditation?
Cross-legged on the floor, I settled into a comfortable position, palms pressed together in deep contemplation. As The Magician, holder of the card bearing the number 1, my unique ability had to be something beyond the mundane. While the notion of elemental manipulation held a certain allure, it felt cliché, lacking the depth my complex psyche craved. No, my mind hungered for something more profound, something that would wield the very fabric of reality itself, instilling fear in the hearts of all who dared to oppose me.
Hours passed as I delved deep into my thoughts, relentlessly manifesting my desires until they materialized before me. With a deliberate motion, I unfurled my left hand, and from it emerged a multitude of nocturnal creatures: bats, spiders, and worms, weaving their way into existence from the depths of my imagination. Etched upon my palm, a symbol revealed itself—a serpent consuming its own tail, the ancient Ouroboros. Symbolic of the eternal cycle of creation, destruction, and rebirth, it signified the unity of the material and spiritual realms, where imagination gave birth to reality.
In this moment of enlightenment, clarity washed over me like a tidal wave. As I pondered my true identity, I opened my right palm to reveal a metallic face mask. With each donning of this mask, I would shed the facade of Eros Corciato, revealing the raw essence of my being—an embodiment of insanity incarnate.
With a swift motion, I donned the mask, feeling its weight settle upon my face like a familiar embrace. In that instant, a surge of exhilaration coursed through my veins, electrifying every fiber of my being. It was as if I had shed an old skin, emerging anew, reborn into a realm of boundless possibilities.
Like a caterpillar breaking free from its chrysalis, I embraced this metamorphosis, reveling in the ecstasy of transformation. With newfound clarity and purpose, I steeled myself for the unholy quest that lay ahead. The time for hesitation had passed; now, I stood ready to unleash the full extent of my powers upon the world.