Heir Of Chaos

Ever since Dale had realized that beasts often feasted on the bodies of their kind to grow stronger, he had wondered if humans could do the same.

In fact, he vividly remembered wondering if he would grow stronger if he ate Austin. Now, it seemed as though the book was going to provide an answer.

’Thankfully, I don’t need to worry myself with finding out.’ The only way he would have found out would have been to either eat someone himself or have someone eat another person.

Either way, he’d be aiding cannibalism and that was rightfully a criminal offence.

But now that he had the book, he could get the information without any of the horrendous acts.

[Humans are inherently animals so why do we possess the AIDE while beasts have none of such? The answer is rather simple. Intelligence.]

[Take note of what I said. Intelligence. Remember it for later.]

[The AIDE prioritizes a capacity to understand both when it gives a description of an ability or skill. The more gifted someone is with their mind, the clearer the description seems to be]

He raised an eyebrow. ’Is the author saying that beasts do have AIDE but are just not intelligible enough to process what it says?’

Dale read on, his brow furrowing.

[The world seeks out a balance so humans who understand are capped by the very same intelligence that allows them to survive.

Beasts possess none of such and are thus free to take shortcuts to evolution. The few hybrids of the extreme ends, possessing both intelligence and power, are limited by the threshold needed to gain even an inch of extra power]

The explanation was elegant in its simplicity. Beasts were creatures of instinct, driven by primal urges that humans had long since evolved beyond.

Their intelligence was limited, their consciousness confined to the immediate present. They could not plan, could not scheme, could not build civilizations or write books or wage wars of ideology. They existed in a state of perpetual now, reacting to stimuli with a purity that humans could never hope to achieve.

Because of this limited intelligence, the world had granted beasts a unique gift. When one beast consumed another, it absorbed not just the physical matter of its prey, but the latent energy that had been stored within.

This energy was the essence of the beast’s existence, the total of its life force, its experiences, and its power. By consuming another beast, a creature could grow stronger, faster, and more resilient. This was the world’s way of ensuring that the strongest survived, that the most adapted thrived, that the balance was maintained through a constant cycle of consumption and rebirth.

But humans were different. Dale’s fingers paused on the page as he read the next passage. Humans possessed a level of intelligence that was both a blessing and a curse.

Their minds were complex, capable of abstract thought, of long-term planning, of moral reasoning. This intelligence made them powerful in ways that beasts could never comprehend. They could build weapons, develop strategies, and create societies. They could coordinate their efforts and overcome obstacles through ingenuity rather than brute force.

Yet this same intelligence came with a price. The awakening pool, in its ancient wisdom— provided it had any —, had recognized that if humans could grow stronger through consumption, they would inevitably become the dominant force, destroying the delicate balance that sustained all life.

A human who could absorb the power of others would be unstoppable, a tyrant without equal. There would be no checks, no balances, no natural limits to their growth. They would consume everything in their path, until nothing remained but a single, all-powerful being ruling over an empty world.

To prevent this catastrophe, the world had decreed that humans could not grow stronger by eating their own kind. Their power had to be earned, cultivated, and developed through personal effort and dedication. Every ounce of strength a human possessed had to be forged through training, discipline, and sacrifice. There were no shortcuts, no easy paths to power. The world demanded that humans work for their strength, that they earn it through sweat and blood and tears.

This was why humans could consume beast flesh just for food but never absorb their power. The energy that other beings possessed could not be absorbed by humans.

The book then continued by explaining that while most beasts followed this primal pattern of consumption and growth, there were exceptions. Some beasts, like that damned bird Dale had faced, possessed intelligence far beyond their kind.

These were considered ’hybrids’ according to the book. Most likely referring to a conjunction between intelligence and power.

Because these intelligent beasts had the capacity for a primal form of reasoning, the world had placed additional restrictions on them.

They could still grow stronger by consuming others, but the process was agonizingly slow. Each meal provided only a fraction of the energy that a mindless beast would receive.

They had to consume hundreds, even thousands, of other creatures to achieve the same growth that a simple wolf-beast could achieve with a single meal.

It was as if the world was punishing them for their intelligence, forcing them to choose between the power of the mind and the power of the body.

Dale sat back, his mind reeling. The revelation explained so much. He had always wondered why the elite hadn’t just eaten and feasted to grow stronger.

Now he understood. There was no other way. Every moment of pain, every drop of sweat, every sleepless night was a necessary investment in their own development. They couldn’t cheat, couldn’t take shortcuts, couldn’t consume their way to power as the beasts could.

He thought of the beasts he had encountered, the terrifying creatures that had nearly killed him on multiple occasions. Their power was raw, instinctual, born of countless meals and endless hunger. They didn’t have to train, didn’t have to strategize, didn’t have to endure the same grueling process that humans did. They simply ate and grew, a simple equation that made them formidable opponents.

And yet, they were limited. Their minds were simple, their strategies predictable. A clever human could defeat a beast many times more powerful through cunning and planning.

This was especially the case with the eagle. It was certainly through their higher intelligence that they had killed it.

’I wonder how they found out, though.’ Surely, there must have been an attempt at cannibalism. That was certain.

Dale delved further into the book.

[And so, it brings me to the ranks of humans. All four of them.]

Dale’s eyes widened. "Four?!"