The rain hadn't stopped.
It only grew colder, sharper—like knives falling from the heavens.
Damon Cross walked with blood on his hands and power in his veins.
His first kill.
No—kills.
He hadn't just survived.
He had butchered.
And the warmth of it still buzzed beneath his skin, a drug more potent than adrenaline. It didn't feel wrong. It felt right. Like breathing for the first time.
His eyes glowed faintly crimson as he stepped from the alley into the neon-stained underbelly of the city. Towering holograms flickered with smiling corporate gods, their lies cutting through the smoke like knives through flesh. Above, the skyline was a shattered cage of steel and smog.
Below, people bustled—oblivious.
Blind. Deaf.
To the monster now walking among them.
> [Bloodcore: Stable – 100%]
[New Trait: Predator's Gaze Lv.1 – Weak-willed targets may freeze in fear.]
A flicker of movement. A whisper of intent behind him.
Damon froze.
His eyes slid sideways, glowing just a touch brighter.
Someone was watching him.
He didn't wait. Didn't hesitate.
He ducked into the nearest entrance—a broken, graffiti-smeared stairwell leading into the city's buried veins. The subway. Ancient. Forgotten. Haunted by more than ghosts.
> [Warning: Enemy Presence Detected.]
Footsteps followed.
Precise.
Military.
Not the clumsy shuffle of thugs. These were trained. Wolves, not jackals. Their rhythm had purpose. Kill rhythm.
Damon dropped the last few steps and slid down a rusted support rail, boots sparking as he landed with a low grunt on the cracked concrete platform.
Then came the shadows.
Four of them.
Clad in sleek black exo-suits, faces masked behind mirror-visors, weapons already drawn. Suppressors attached. Muzzle flashes would be muted, the kill clean. Professional.
"Target confirmed," the lead one said. His voice was dead steel. "Bloodcore active. Orders are full purge."
Damon narrowed his eyes. "Who sent you?"
The man raised a short-barreled rifle—too advanced for local enforcement.
"You're not supposed to exist."
Damon's lips peeled back. A grin—not of amusement, but challenge. "Yeah... that makes two of us."
> [Quest Triggered – Hunt or Be Hunted]
Survive the Black Hounds.
Reward: +2 Skill Slots, Blood Shard (Unknown Use)
"OPEN FIRE!"
The world turned white with muzzle flashes.
Damon moved.
Faster than thought. Faster than bullets. His body snapped into action, ducking low behind a rusted bench just as concrete shattered where his skull had been.
His heart didn't pound in fear. It thrummed with hunger.
He lunged forward, sliding across broken tile.
Blood smeared beneath his palms.
> [Skill Activated – Bloodlash Lv.1]
Two crimson tendrils erupted from his wrists—liquid spears forged from his own boiling blood.
They lashed forward, one curling around a Hound's leg, jerking him off his feet and down into the service pit below.
A scream.
Then a crunch.
Three left.
> [Bloodcore: 92%]
One tried to flank him.
Damon was already in motion, body a blur. He closed the distance, grabbed the man's rifle, and snapped his neck mid-turn.
The body slumped.
He spun the rifle and fired three quick bursts—tat-tat-tat!
Another Hound's chest exploded in gore.
Two down.
But the last?
She was ready.
She moved like smoke.
Weaving through the carnage, twin mono-knives in her hands, blades humming with violet energy.
> [Warning: Tier-2 Assassin Detected]
The system's voice didn't rattle Damon.
It excited him.
She came at him fast—slashes precise, fluid. Damon blocked with the stolen rifle, sparks flying. The metal screamed under the blades' kiss.
She ducked under his counter and carved across his ribs—sizzle—the blade humming as it tore through flesh and armor.
Pain. Real pain.
But then…
> [Regeneration Triggered – Passive Healing: +4 HP/sec]
The wound began sealing even as blood dripped.
Damon hissed. "Cute trick."
He dropped the rifle.
> [Skill Activated – Crimson Surge Lv.1]
Blood exploded from his pores, coating his arms like living armor.
He lunged with a roar, fists crashing down with the weight of a falling tower.
She blocked—barely.
But the impact launched her into a steel column.
She hit the ground, coughing blood. Her knives clattered away.
Damon walked toward her, steps slow, deliberate.
"You hunt monsters," he said, voice low and raw, "I am one."
She reached for her boot.
Backup weapon.
Too late.
He stomped her wrist. Bone cracked. She screamed.
He knelt.
His glowing eyes met hers.
"What's your name?"
She spat blood. "You're dead. You just don't know it yet."
> [Bloodlash – Execution Mode]
Damon's face turned cold.
"Wrong answer."
The tendril shot forward.
Pierced her heart.
Her body arched, then slumped.
> [Kill Confirmed – Tier-2 Hunter]
[Bloodcore: 118% – Overload Imminent]
[New Passive Unlocked – Killer's Instinct: Detects Nearby Hostiles Automatically.]
Damon dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
Sweat clung to his face, mixing with blood.
His grin never left.
They sent killers after him.
He was still standing.
No. Not standing. Evolving.
> [System Message – Path Options Updated]
— Predator [Strength, Combat, Intimidation]
— Sovereign [Leadership, Dominion, Blood Control]
— Shade [Stealth, Assassination, Fear]
Choose your path, Damon Cross.
He stared at the glowing words.
Predator. The alley beast. The one who rips and roars.
Sovereign. A crown without mercy. Rule through blood.
Shade. A phantom. Untouchable. Feared.
His lip curled.
"I'm not done hunting," he muttered. "But I won't be a dog on a leash again."
He raised his hand.
> [Path Selected – Sovereign]
You are the heir to the Throne of Blood. Build your dominion. Command the lost. Rule the damned.
> [New Skill Acquired – Blood Pact Lv.1]
Raise fallen enemies as Bloodthralls. One use available.
Damon's gaze slid to the body at the bottom of the pit—the Hound with the shattered spine.
He raised his hand.
"Emerge."
> [Blood Pact – Active]
The corpse twitched.
Bones cracked, reset.
Flesh pulsed.
The dead Hound rose, eyes glowing crimson, movements stiff—like a puppet still remembering how to dance.
"What… do you require… my Lord?" it rasped.
Damon's eyes glittered.
"Start by cleaning this mess."
The Bloodthrall obeyed.
Dragging bodies into shadows, wiping evidence clean.
Damon turned and stepped back into the storm.
Rain poured.
But it no longer sounded like threat.
It sounded like applause.
And then—her voice.
Low. Feminine. Amused.
Lilith.
> "So, you chose the throne. How… ambitious."
Damon didn't flinch.
"I'm not ambitious," he whispered. "I'm done being prey."
> [Quest Updated – Sovereign's Rise]
Objective: Establish First Bloodhold. Recruit Thralls. Draw the attention of the Elder Sects.
And somewhere—far beyond the system—something stirred.
A presence ancient. Watching.
A new predator had stepped onto the board.
And the gods were starting to notice.