Oban lurched forward, his body trembling. All he remembered was the blinding pain of blood streaming from his veins and the System's cold, robotic voice echoing in his mind.
Now, with eyesight returning to him, he found himself in the center of a street.
A street that was not his own.
The structures towered like dark monoliths, their stone walls marked with strange sigils that glowed faintly in the light of a blood red moon. Iron streetlamps blazed with tiny, unearthly flame, and perpendicular alleys stretched like veins into the darkness of the city.
Oban turned slowly in slow disbelief. "Where… where the devil am I?"
A few carriages passed, drawn not by horses but by beasts with leathery wings and eyes that burned like hot coals. Humans walked in the streets, wearing clothes in an old-time fashion, as if from the eighteenth century. Capes, corsets, high boots, gloves of lace—yet every face bore an uncanny sharpness, as if the city had etched secrets into their very bones.
And then the terrible answer arrived.
He stopped a passing man, an old man with a twisted cane. "Excuse me… where am I? In what country am I?"
The man regarded him in a puzzled manner, as if surprised by the question itself. "You're a traveler, of course. Transylvania, obviously. Where else would you be?"
Oban's heart leapt. Transylvania. A country that did not exist. Not in his time. Not in his world.
Before he could speak again, the System beeped in his mind:
[System Initialization Complete.][Host successfully bound: Oban.][Timeline confirmed: Year 2083 A.D.][Dimensional designation: Dark Continent.]
Sixty-five years after his supposed death.
Oban took a step back, clutching his head. No… this can't be. I died. I must be dead.
But his heart was silent in his chest, and yet he existed. His senses keener. His eyesight sharper. His hearing able to pick out the sounds of conversations half a block away. He could even sense the steady rhythmic beat of blood inside the veins of the man who had just walked by.
And the sound irritates his throat.
Hunger
The fire in his throat grew hotter. His belly twisted like he hadn't eaten in months. His fingers trembled, and looking down, he saw his nails had grown into razor-sharp black talons.
"No… no, this isn't happening."
He lurched into a narrow alley, grasping the wall for support. His body felt heavy but light, his muscles full of inhuman strength yet trembling with hunger.
The System's voice returned:
[Warning: Host's vitality unstable.][Requirement: Consume blood within 2 hours or system will fail.]
Oban's eyes widened. "Blood?"
He whirled, and for an instant his reflection stared back at him from a broken fragment of glass on the ground. Pale skin, stark red eyes, pointed fangs snug against his lips.
His legs gave way. "I… I'm a monster…"
But the hunger didn't care.
He heard a swift sound coming his way—the low whine of a child farther down the alley. He spun around and saw a young girl clutching a basket, not more than ten. Her leg was bleeding from a wound, fresh drops of crimson defiling the stone.
The stench hit him like lightning. His fangs pulsed. His throat screamed. His feet took him before he was aware of what he was doing.
No. Stop. Stop!
He slammed his clawed fists against the wall beside him, splintering stone as he struggled with the urge. The girl glared up, terrorized, her violet eyes wide with fear. She turned and ran, basket falling to the ground.
Oban knelt, shaking violently.
[System Warning: Survival of Host at risk.][New Quest created.]
Quest: The First Hunt
Goal: Feed and stabilize your new form.
Reward: Unlocked basic Vampire abilities.
Failure: System failure. Permanent death.
His breathing shuddered. I must drink blood… or I will die again.
But would he kill?
The First Kill
The echo of boots sounded at the mouth of the alley. A group of men appeared, clad in long coats and brandishing silver knives. On their chests was a red mark—a blazing cross.
"Inquisitors," one of them spat. "Another spawn."
Their leader's eyes had a dull shimmer behind his cowl. He raised his sword. "Kill it before it grows."
Oban's instincts screamed. He did not know why, but his body remembered them—killers of his species.
The first attacked him, silver flashing. Oban tried to get out of the way, but his movements were slow. The sword sliced across his shoulder, searing his skin with unholy heat. He screamed in agony.
Another struck from the side. Plain desperation drove him. His claws ripped out, ripping deep into the throat of the man. Warm fluid splattered across his hand. The Inquisitor choked, looking in horror, before he collapsed.
The smell of blood flooded him. Oban's body responded on instinct. He dropped to the ground, biting into the wound with his fangs.
The taste was fire and tempest and life. His veins burned, his heart screamed to life, his wounds healing in his eyes. Power flowed into his muscles, his eyesight focusing until every thing in the world blazed with ghastly clarity.
The System sounded:
[Quest Success: The First Hunt.][Reward: Ability opened – Blood Sense.]Blood Sense (Passive): Detect living things up to 100 meters away by sensing their blood flow.
Oban's head snapped up. He heard them all. Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every drop of blood in their veins.
The rest of the Inquisitors hesitated, fear crossing their faces. "He's awakened—!"
Oban roared, advancing at supernatural speed. His claws tore through one, and then another, blood coloring the alleyway crimson. He was alive for the first time.
When the silence fell, there were only bodies surrounding him.
Aftermath
Oban retreated, panting. Claws were smeared with red, lips crimson-stained. A piece of mirror reflected his face again—crimson eyes blazing, fangs bared.
He had survived. At what cost?
The System's voice was honeyed, nearly contemptuous:
[Well done, Host.]
[You are no longer prey. You are predator.]
Oban slumped against the wall, shaken hands. The fire in his throat had stopped, replaced by a terrible satisfaction.
"I… killed them. I…"
His voice broke. "Am I human anymore?"
Shadows shifted. A woman's voice from above called down, "No. You're something much better."
Oban's eyes flashed up.
A figure in black stood on the roof, tall, hair flowing like a river of night. Her eyes were violet, her smile revealing fang-tips at the corners.
"A new baby," she touched. "And already you've murdered Inquisitors. Fascinating."
Oban's blood ran cold. Another vampire.
The System flashed:
[Warning: Unknown Entity detected.][Classification: Vampire Noble – Tier 7.]
The woman dropped lithely, falling softly to the floor before him. She tilted her head, regarding him with a smile. "Tell me, boy. Do you want to survive in this world?"
Oban swallowed. ".Yes."
Her smile expanded. "Then you'll need training. And power. I can give both."
The System rang again:
[New Quest: Withstand the Temptation.]Objective: Decide to join Vampire Noble or reject her offer.]Reward: ???]
Oban's mind whirled. He had just begun his new life, and already he was presented with a decision.
And with the blood moon looming over Transylvania, he knew one thing.
His journey had only just begun.