The stench of blood hit first.
It burned his nose, thick and iron-rich, more pungent than death itself. The smell crawled down his throat like a living thing, coating his lungs with the metallic taste of violence. His eyes snapped open—if they were even his anymore. Everything was red. Not just the haze floating in the stagnant air, but the very world around him had been painted in crimson.
He was naked, completely exposed, drenched in blood that wasn't his own. The sticky warmth clung to his skin like a second layer, and beneath him lay a pit of corpses that twitched as if still clinging to some twisted form of life.
"Where… am I?" The words scraped out of his throat—raw, alien, reborn. His voice didn't sound right. It was deeper, rougher, like gravel mixed with broken glass.
He tried to move his fingers. They trembled at first, slow and uncertain, but as he lifted his hand, he saw them properly. Clawed. Sharp. His skin had turned obsidian-black, darker than midnight, with veins glowing faintly crimson beneath the surface like molten blood flowing through marble.
What the hell happened to me?
> System initializing…
The voice slammed into his skull without warning—neither male nor female, monotone yet absolute. It felt divine, like the word of some twisted god speaking directly into his brain.
> [CRIMSON CREATION SYSTEM v1.0]
• Status: Host Rebirth Complete
• Authority Level: Progenitor
• Energy Core: Locked
• Blood Pool: [0/1000]
• Evolution Tree: Awaiting Input…
"What the hell is this?" Zephyr hissed, but even as the words left his lips, fragments of memory crashed back into his mind like shattered glass cutting through fog.
The pain of death. Real, absolute death.
The empire's scientists in their sterile white labs, draining his blood drop by precious drop while he screamed.
The sound of others like him—marked as "cursed," dissected while still breathing, their cries echoing through endless corridors.
Chains biting into his wrists. Needles piercing his spine. Fire burning through his veins as they pumped him full of their experiments.
He hadn't just died. Death would have been a mercy.
He'd been executed. Tortured. Used.
Sacrificed.
> Revenge Protocol: 1%
His lip curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "One percent? I'm going to make that a thousand before I'm done with them."
He staggered to his feet, muscles screaming in protest, slick with blood that wasn't entirely his own anymore. The pit stretched around him like a crater in hell—dozens, no, hundreds of bodies layered in grotesque piles that defied counting. Each corpse had been impaled through the chest, drained completely dry, their throats torn open in jagged lines.
This wasn't just a grave. This was a mass feeding site.
And he wasn't the only one who'd been reborn here.
> Mission Received: Reclaim your identity. Reclaim the world.
Quest 01: Create your first Weapon of Blood.
A flash of crimson code erupted across his vision like digital fire, as if reality itself was bending to obey some new set of rules. A glowing circle materialized in the air before him, inscribed with shifting runes that hurt to look at directly.
[Blood Creation Interface Active]
—Material Source: Dead flesh (Grade F)
—Blood Essence: 0
—Allowed Output: Basic Weaponry
—Warning: First creation defines system path…
Zephyr extended his hand without thinking. Instinct guided him now, primal and sure. Rage fueled him like gasoline on fire. The corpse beneath his feet began to twist, bones cracking with wet snaps as they melted upward, flesh fusing into new shapes, sinew reshaping itself according to his will.
From death, something new took form.
The weapon that materialized in his grip pulsed with dark life—a jagged black spear, longer than he was tall, with veins of deep red glowing along its obsidian shaft. It reeked of pure, concentrated hatred.
> Item Created: Crimson Bone Lance
• Class: Bloodbound
• Effect: Returns blood on kill
• Trait: Devours evolution materials
Zephyr's eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction. "Now we're talking."
A shriek tore across the chasm, high and piercing.
Something else was awake.
From the far edge of the pit, a hunched figure emerged from the shadows between the corpses. Pale skin stretched over visible bones. Twisted limbs that bent at wrong angles. Feral eyes that gleamed red with hunger. Its movements were wrong—too fast, too fluid, like a spider wearing human skin.
> Species Detected: Feralsoul Vampire (Rogue Evolution)
Threat Level: B-
It didn't hesitate. The creature launched itself across the pit in a single bound, claws extended like razors, mouth open to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.
Zephyr moved on pure instinct. The spear sang through the air as he spun it once, testing its weight, then thrust forward with everything he had. The beast's momentum carried it straight onto the weapon's tip, which pierced through its open mouth and erupted out the back of its skull in a spray of black blood.
It stopped mid-air, suspended on his spear, twitching like a broken marionette. Then its body began to shrink, blood pouring from every wound directly into the weapon, flowing up the shaft and into Zephyr's arms like liquid fire.
> Blood Essence Absorbed: +120
Evolution Path: Unlocked
Trait Acquired: Feral Regeneration (Passive)
Heat exploded through his limbs. His entire body convulsed as bones cracked and reformed, spine elongating, muscles tightening and expanding. His fingernails darkened to metallic black, sharp as knives. A second heartbeat thundered to life in his chest, syncing with the first in a rhythm that felt like war drums.
"More," he whispered, eyes wide with hunger he'd never felt before. "I need more."
> Warning: Host approaching Blood Frenzy.
The system's voice faded under the rush of pure, intoxicating hunger. His jaw ached as two sharp fangs burst through his gums, his blood igniting like molten metal in his veins.
Zephyr threw back his head and laughed. For the first time in his entire miserable life, he felt truly alive.
Not human. Not vampire. Something completely new.
Something dangerous.
---
The corpses around him twitched again.
But this time, it wasn't from him.
They were moving on their own.
One by one, bodies began to rise from the pile. Some were missing limbs. Others still had spears or claws lodged deep in their torsos. But all of them, every single one, turned to look directly at him with eyes that glowed like dying stars.
The air temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant.
> Warning: Ancient Presence Detected.
Initiating Sub-Core Emergency Protocol…
"System," Zephyr growled, raising his spear defensively, "what the hell is happening now?"
> …Another Progenitor has awakened.
A deep voice echoed from above, layered like thunder rolling over steel. It carried the weight of centuries, of power that had never known defeat.
"You smell like failure, little brother."
Zephyr's head snapped upward.
A man stood at the pit's rim, silhouetted against the red sky. Tall and lean, with bone-white hair that moved without wind. He wore nothing but armor made from what looked like human bones, fitted perfectly to his frame. His eyes were pure white, empty of pupils, and his aura pressed down on the air itself like the weight of mountains.
And in his hand, held with casual confidence, was a spear.
Identical to Zephyr's in every way.
Except older. Darker. Hungrier.
The weapon practically vibrated with contained violence.
> Bloodmatch Detected. Initiating Forced Trial…
The white-haired man smiled, revealing fangs that looked like they could bite through steel.
"Let's see if you're worth the blood you're made of."