Powerless Ebook Novels & Stories

I started to summon my strength in the hopes of trying to break free of the handcuffs binding my wrists. I had plenty of temper and plenty of time, but my powers just couldn’t break through. I tried and tried, but nothing. I was the same as I had always been, completely powerless. I shuffled up the bed as I heard a movement on the other side of the door. It was like I had to get as far away as possible from the danger, despite knowing there was no way of me actually getting away from it.

I wished he understood…he had to understand! "You don't understand what it's like to be powerless," I said, my voice breaking. "To be used as bait, as fodder. To be dragged around and have no control over your own life!" “As a matter of fact, I do!” He ran his fingers through his hair, “Which is why I think what you're doing is foolish!” “There is nothing foolish about wanting power, Roman. Once upon a time you had the world in your hands and let's not lie to ourselves, you fucking loved it!”

“To gravity.” Varek chuckled and knelt beside her, offering a canteen. “Not bad.” “I got hit fifteen times.” “You didn’t fall until the end. That’s progress.” She gulped the water and lay back, staring at the grey sky above. “Why does everyone keep saying I’m powerful? I don’t feel powerful. I feel like a very tired raccoon who accidentally walked into a vampire soap opera.” Varek lay beside her, close but not touching. “You are powerful. But power doesn’t just come from magic—it comes from choice. Every time you get back up, you grow stronger.”

I was nothing more than a glorified nanny. But it didn't matter anymore. This "cheap nanny" was about to resign, permanently. From now on, their charming, beautiful "real mom" could deal with their tantrums and homework.

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="request-69b7afd0-f1ec-83aa-ae3e-4c03784218db-10" data-testid="conversation-turn-90" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> Power does not always announce itself. Sometimes— it watches. It waits. And when it finally moves…

CHAPTER 1 Power, it was a term that is rather popular, everyone can relate to the need for power and at the same time everyone wanted it for him or herself, I was no different, and for me power had a means, right from the age of 12. You see I was a scrawny child from a really small town in New Jersey, growing up was especially hard since I had no parents, forgotten in an orphanage, aside that I wasn’t a cute kid that people came and awwned over and then decide they should adopt, I was ugly, there was no other adjective to use, I had a crocked nose, and even my teeth was scattered and it showed whenever I smiled, every time we were to line up for a prospective family, we were asked to smile a

But the rhythm was the same—alive, indifferent, relentless. I passed a bookstore and paused. In the window, a display caught my eye. A stack of books titled Power Without Permission. My name on the cover. I stared at it longer than necessary. Not because I was proud. But because I remembered the girl who once believed power had to be granted. I stepped inside and bought a copy. At home, I placed the book on the shelf beside others—histories, theories, stories written by women who refused erasure. It fit there.

"What's a good woman?" She wasn't even sure why she was entertaining this conversation. Maybe because Hilary kept shouting about wanting to join the military. Maybe because beneath all the arrogance, she was still just a stubborn kid. This time, Hilary answered without hesitation. "A good woman? Of course someone like my idol-the Commander of the Obsidian Unit!" Her whole face lit up instantly. "Cool, powerful, absolutely badass. She commands armies! She's strong, fearless, and ridiculously awesome! She's seriously the coolest woman alive!"

The little girl swings her feet gently beneath the chair, completely unaware of the weight of the conversation. The boy watches everything. Every word. Every movement. Learning. Leviath leans back again slowly. Unbothered. Or pretending to be. “Power always comes at a cost,” he says. “That doesn’t mean you should pay it,” I shoot back. “It does when the alternative is weakness.” “You’re not weak.” His gaze snaps to mine. Sharp. Dangerous. “You don’t know that.” “I do,” I say firmly. “Because weak men don’t build kingdoms like this.”

The people here could have extraordinary powers when they wielded them. But there is one condition that required for someone to make use of them. That is Talent, the old Eduard was sent here by his family due to his incapability in wielding either of the two. Everyone should be capable to wield them as long as they practiced, but he was one of the special cases that can not have the chance to use them. "System what are your abilities?". He asked. He is expecting to heard a response from the system. Eduard waited for the system response but only the display on the screen change. Displaying some rowdy words.