He waited for his life to flash before his eyes. A final montage of joy, laughter, or warmth.
Sadly, nothing came.
Only darkness, and the terrifying thought that Nathalie would suffer because he wasn't strong enough to protect her.
'There's no justice in the world… I hate myself. I hate everyone who made me suffer. I hate everything.'
Each word dripped with pure rage.
(Then why not just burn it all down?)
[DING!]
[Activating Limitless Devil System]
A cold, mechanical female voice echoed through his mind. He got no idea what was happening.
But none of it mattered now. A light appeared in the endless darkness, and he reached for it.
When he opened his eyes, the blade hadn't gone through his neck.
Somehow he was able to block it with his hand.
Blood streamed down his fingers, deep cuts lining his palms, but he barely felt the pain.
Even the stab wound in his gut had faded into a dull throb.
"H... How are you alive?" one of the gangsters asked, stepping back like he was staring at a ghost.
Ken looked down at his bloodied hands. Then back up.
"I don't know what's happening to me…" he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "But you guys? You're dead."
The scent of blood filled the air .And for some reason, it made him excited.
Ken didn't wait. He grabbed the weapon from one of the thugs, and before they could react, he swung it—cutting them down.
Only the man who taunted him earlier was left. Ken aimed low, slicing into the legs to keep his prey from running.
The gangster tried to crawl, dragging himself backward, but Ken stomped down hard on his ankle.
"You like picking on the helpless, right?" Ken sneered, and drove the blade into the man's thigh. Not deep enough to kill—just enough to make him scream.
"Stop! Please don't kill me!"
Ken only pressed harder.
"Say something now.!"
"Come on. Laugh at me again."
The man sobbed, hands trembling as he tried to shield his face.
"I was just following orders. It was the boss—I swear. Please, don't kill me."
"You don't deserve mercy." Ken raised the machete and began his punishment.
Each slash was painful—meant to hurt, not to kill.
The man screamed, thrashing weakly as blood poured from deep, jagged wounds.
Ken didn't stop. Not until the cries turned to gurgles.
Then, gripping the man by the hair, he dragged the blade across his throat—slow, like he was gutting livestock.
By the time it was over, the silence returned, broken only by Ken's heavy breathing.
"It's over—"
Before he could finish, an unbearable pain ripped through his abdomen.
It felt like his insides were being crushed, torn apart from within—like gears grinding bone and flesh into dust.
"ARGHHH! What's… happening?!" He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach.
Then he looked up—saw the scattered corpses around him.
Drool began to spill from his lips, thick and uncontrollable.
One by one, his old, human teeth loosened and fell, hitting the ground with soft, wet clicks.
New ones pushed through—jagged, razor-sharp, rows forming like a shark's grin.
Each throb of his gums brought more pain, but none of it came close to the agony twisting in his stomach.
Somehow—instinctively—he knew exactly what he needed.
Humans. He needed to feed
Slowly, he crawled toward the nearest corpse, fingers dragging against the blood-soaked ground.
He grabbed its limp arm. At first, he only meant to open his mouth—just to take a bit.
But then—
Crack.
His jaw snapped violently out of place, unhinging with a brutal crack until his mouth stretched all the way to his ears.
'I don't care anymore!'
Like a starving animal, he grabbed the severed head, and swallowed it whole.
How? He didn't know.
His throat shouldn't stretch like that. But it slid down easily, as if his body had changed just enough to allow it.
'I'm still hungry… I need to eat more,'
He crouched beside the corpses and began eating.
Because he could digest human meat so quickly, he kept stuffing himself with large chunks until only a few pieces were left—the ones he didn't like to eat.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Ken smeared away the blood still dripping from his lips. Bits of brain matter clung to his chin like jelly.
Which, honestly, was the best part.
Second best? The bone marrow.
[DING!]
[Level Up +1]
The notification pulled his attention away from the scattered remains.
'What's this thing?' he muttered, staring at a floating window in front of him.
Blood-red and translucent, it hovered in the air like something out of a video game.
Then, another screen appeared right after:
[Distribute Stats]
'Is this really happening?'
He had already accepted that he turned into a monster. A vampire, A werewolf, or even a mutant.
But the floating screen reminded him of a webtoon Dre used to read—some guy gets a system, levels up, and ends up overpowered.
He always thought those cheat systems were ridiculous, which made it all the more ironic that he now had one himself.
His thoughts drifted back to that mysterious voice.
Power like this always came with a price—and it wouldn't be small.
'I'll deal with it when the time comes.'
For now, he turned his focus to the screen.
He selected Yes, and a new window opened.