His body had settled after the transformation, though he could still feel something restless inside him, like a new engine learning how to run.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall and focused on the floating menu again, trying to make sense of his situation one line at a time.
NAME: Silas Creed
AGE: 28
RACE: Sanguine (Choose Type)
HUNGER: 0%
POWER: Low Rank 1 (5%)
ABILITIES [Locked]
He tapped on the abilities section, expecting a list of powers to explain everything clearly. Instead, the screen pulsed red, followed by a short white flicker. A new message replaced the empty field.
[Unable to access abilities. Select Sanguine Type / Clan to unlock.]
He stared at it, blinking once. The logic wasn't complicated, but the implications were bigger than he wanted to admit. He rubbed his hand across his face.
'So I don't just become a vampire. I have to pick what kind of vampire I am?'
It felt like a strange parody of all the games he had played over the years. Except now there was no restart button or character reroll. Whatever choice he made would be permanent, tied to his body and survival.
He believed vampires were just vampires. Strong, fast, fangs, sunlight problems, maybe some mind tricks.
At most, a few fancy variations depending on the story. This system… it suggested variety. Something closer to clans or bloodlines with actual differences.
He shook off that spiral before it turned into panic. He didn't know nearly enough to feel confident in any assumptions. All he could do was push forward. He pressed the glowing text labeled
[Choose Type]
The screen dissolved and new symbols began forming in front of him. He straightened his posture as he waited, suddenly aware that this decision mattered far more than he liked.
The new menu formed fully and the heading made his stomach tighten, even though he knew the answer long before reading it.
[Types of Sanguines / Vampires]
The first entry blinked at him.
■ Lamia – A hybrid of human and serpent. Lower body becomes a snake's tail. Prefers the blood of young humans. Notable weaknesses: fragile spine around transformation point, prone to dehydration and cold environments, voice becomes distorted and hard to control while transformed.
Silas stared at the description for two seconds before dragging his finger past it.
'Absolutely not. I'm not turning into a snake man… and I'm not drinking kids. Hard pass.'
He tried not to picture the female version. He moved on quickly.
Next appeared something that at least sounded more recognizable.
■ Purebornes – Stereotypical nobles of vampire folklore. Ethereal beauty and refined demeanor. Limited physical enhancement, instead excelling in mental domination and command over lesser beings. Best suited to ruling from strongholds. Direct sunlight causes rapid combustion into ash. Physical durability is noticeably low.
They sounded elegant in a way, fitting for a world with castles and politics, but that world was gone. He couldn't afford to be a delicate mind-controller hiding from sunlight every second of the day.
'Yeah, mind games won't keep me alive when a horde is chewing through the door.'
He continued scrolling.
■ Nosferatu – A lineage of twisted brutality. They evolve monstrous features as they grow, gaining terrifying physical might. Their hunger is high and constant, making control difficult. Direct exposure to clean water causes burning. Reflections trigger uncontrollable aggression. Fire lingers longer on their flesh than other types.
'Burning water… reflections… yeah, that's a nightmare waiting to happen.'
There were others.
■ Strigoi – Cursed spirits forced into flesh. They hovered between tangible and intangible. Vulnerable to religious symbols and iron contact, completely unable to cross moving water.
■ Upyr – Grave-fed vampires with the ability to command the dead and regain strength by consuming marrow. However, their skin peels and rots without soil contact every few days.
■ Jiangshi – Rigid corpse-walkers with immense jumps and claw strength. Limited flexibility. Sunlight paralyzes them on the spot.
And the list continued further down with dozens of unfamiliar variations, each with a dramatic edge and an equally dramatic crippling flaw. Silas found himself grimacing more with every description.
The abilities sounded powerful, but the weaknesses were enough to bury anyone before they got a chance to enjoy them.
He paused, letting his eyes drift down the glowing list. Every choice represented isolation in some form.
Some turned ugly, some turned mindless, some became slaves to leaders, and some became metaphors for drinking bleach, strong with an expiration date.
He let out a slow breath and leaned his forearm against the wall behind him.
He wasn't trying to become a monster locked in a sewer. He wasn't trying to rule anyone. He wasn't trying to rot or combust.
He just wanted to survive… and not lose himself along the way.
The idea of existing alone in this new world sat heavier in his chest than any of the physical changes. He had spent so much of his life pushing people away that the idea of being forced into solitude felt like a punishment.
'Living has to be more than just staying alive,' he thought.
He dropped his gaze back to the menu and scrolled slower now, hoping for something, anything, that didn't come with a price too high to pay.
Something that let him keep his humanity in a world that was rapidly losing it.
Silas forced himself to keep scrolling. It wasn't that the idea of leading or ruling scared him, he simply understood the weight that came with it.
Power meant attention, and attention in a world like this could get him torn apart faster than any zombie could manage.
Maybe that part of him would change one day, maybe he would grow into someone strong enough to handle the world's eyes on him, but right now he wasn't searching for a throne.
He was searching for a way to survive while still being able to stand among people without making them run.
Every option so far made him feel like he was choosing between becoming a predator everyone feared, or a fragile creature that would burn at dawn.
He didn't want weaknesses that would trap him indoors, or monstrous appearances he couldn't hide.
Even if he didn't need friends, he still wanted the chance to speak to another human without their first reaction being to shoot him.
'Surely some vampires live normal-ish lives,' he thought, trying to convince himself that there had to be something better than snake tails and ash piles.
The variety of choices almost made things harder. If he was stuck with one forced form, then at least he wouldn't be responsible for his fate.
But now he had options, and because of that he couldn't blame anyone if he picked the wrong one. The power to choose was a blessing that felt a lot like pressure.
He scrolled again, slower this time, until three final names appeared at the bottom of the list.
He didn't know why they were listed last, but he hoped it was a good sign.
These looked more refined, simple titles that didn't scream cursed experiment or sewer-dweller.
Or even basement dwellers.
His eyes narrowed as he read the first....