Chapitre 1: Life as a Penguin we know it
Jiang shoved his hands into his pockets, weaving through the crowd without really seeing it. New York was the same as always—loud, busy, chaotic—but it felt like background noise now. The city's pulse used to thrill him, but these days, it all just blurred together.
His coat hung loose around his frame, and he tugged it tighter, more out of habit than necessity. His hair, messy and windblown, kept falling into his eyes. He didn't bother pushing it aside. There was something heavier weighing him down—something that wasn't just a lack of sleep. He'd been carrying it for longer than he could remember.
He sighed, pulling his coat tighter around himself as a cool breeze swept down the street. His day had been especially rough, his boss riding him for another project, deadlines piling up. He was ready to collapse. The neon lights from nearby shops reflected off the wet pavement, casting an otherworldly glow around him, but Jiang wasn't paying attention to any of it. His legs carried him forward on autopilot as he took a detour down a narrow alley that he didn't quite recognize.
"Where the hell am I?" he muttered, glancing around the unfamiliar path.
The alley was quieter than the bustling main streets, and it seemed to stretch on farther than it should. He shook his head, blaming his disoriented state on exhaustion, but a cold feeling of unease settled in his stomach. This wasn't just any alley—something about it felt wrong, like it existed outside the normal flow of the city.
Ahead, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He froze, his body tensing. A woman stood at the end of the alley, her figure silhouetted by the dim glow of a streetlight. She was stunningly beautiful, her features sharp and her long, flowing black hair catching the light in a way that made her look otherworldly. Her eyes gleamed in the shadows as they locked onto his.
"You seem lost," she said, her voice smooth and inviting, yet carrying an unsettling undertone.
Jiang's instincts screamed at him to turn back, to leave this strange alley and return to the safety of the crowded streets, but his feet wouldn't move. There was something about her, something magnetic that made it impossible for him to walk away. She stepped forward, her movements graceful and deliberate, her eyes never leaving his.
"I'm not lost," he replied, though his voice lacked conviction. He didn't know what else to say.
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she closed the distance between them. Her presence seemed to shift the very air around them, making it feel heavy and charged with something beyond the mundane. Jiang's heart raced as her hand reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. The touch sent a shiver through him, and for a brief moment, he thought of his grandparents' old stories—of spirits and beings that didn't belong to the world of men.
"You're different," she whispered, her eyes gleaming. "I can see it in you. There's something inside you, something waiting to be awakened."
Before Jiang could respond, the ground beneath him seemed to ripple, and the world around him blurred. His heart pounded as his vision swam, colors and shapes twisting and warping. His entire body felt like it was being pulled apart, each cell stretching and distorting in ways that defied reason. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips as the alley, the city, the woman—all of it dissolved into darkness.
When Jiang finally opened his eyes, everything felt wrong.
The first thing he noticed was the cold. The air was sharp against his skin—or rather, his feathers. Panic surged through him as he realized he wasn't lying on the cold pavement of New York but on something much harder, much colder. The world around him was a blur of unfamiliar shapes and sounds.
He tried to move, but his body didn't respond the way it should have. His arms—no, flippers—twitched awkwardly at his sides, and his legs—webbed feet—scrabbled against the ground, unable to find purchase.
"What the hell…?" he gasped, though what came out was not a human voice but a high-pitched squawk.
Jiang blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. His vision was limited, his head swiveling with far too much freedom. He looked down at his body, and the full realization of his situation hit him like a truck.
"I'm… I'm a penguin?!"
Panic shot through him as he flailed, his short flippers slapping uselessly against the ground. His heart raced as he struggled to stand, wobbling and falling over in a ridiculous, undignified heap. He was small, maybe two feet tall at best, and his entire body was covered in sleek black and white feathers. His legs were comically short, and he could barely keep his balance.
"This isn't happening," Jiang muttered—or tried to. His voice had been replaced by the squawk of a bird, and his attempts at communication only sounded like distressed animal noises.
He tried to move again, waddling awkwardly forward. Each step was a battle, his tiny body tilting and rocking as he fought to stay upright. He looked around frantically, hoping to see something familiar, but he was still in New York—somehow. The alley was there, but it was different now, more distant, less real. The city's usual noise seemed muted, and though he could hear the faint hum of traffic in the distance, it felt far away, like it belonged to another world.
People walked by, most of them too caught up in their own lives to notice the penguin in their midst. A few glanced at him with mild curiosity, but no one stopped. This was New York, after all. Strange things happened every day. A penguin wandering the streets? Not the weirdest thing they'd ever seen.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone