The decision took less than a second.
The sound of more doors breaking upstairs and choked screams in the hallway told Kael that time was not a luxury he possessed.
If those things out there—those "Vectors"—could become that strong and fast in minutes, remaining a normal human was a death sentence.
"Reinforce Muscle Tissue," Kael ordered aloud. His voice sounded strange in the quiet apartment.
The System responded immediately.
[Beginning Biomass assimilation.]
It wasn't pleasant. It was like a thousand hot needles were simultaneously stabbing into every muscle fiber in his body. Kael fell to his knees, gritting his teeth not to scream. His muscles spasmed violently, tearing at a microscopic level and re-knitting instantly with the newly absorbed energy.
The process lasted ten seconds that felt like an eternity.
When the pain ceased, Kael stood up. The feeling of heaviness was gone. He felt light, taut, like a compressed spring ready to fire.
He looked at himself in the hallway mirror. He didn't look like Hulk. His body was still lean, but now there was fibrous definition under his t-shirt that hadn't existed before. He lifted the 15 kg dumbbell he used for occasional exercise. It felt ridiculously light, as if made of Styrofoam.
[Remaining Biomass: 0]
Kael looked at his neighbor's corpse. It was now just a sack of dry skin and bones, as if all moisture and life had been drained from it.
"Harvest..." Kael whispered. The term was appropriate. And terrifying.
He approached the window carefully, sticking to the wall to avoid being seen. The panorama was nightmarish.
The violet rain had stopped, but the sky kept that sickly color. The street was strewn with bodies and crashed cars. Small groups of Vectors roamed among the wreckage, occasionally crouching to feed on the fallen.
Kael noticed something worrying. Some of the Vectors no longer looked like Mrs. Petrova.
He saw one, a former pizza delivery guy judging by the tattered uniform, whose right arm was grotesque elongated, with the ulna bone protruding like a sharp natural blade. He was using that blade to pry open the roof of a car where someone was hiding.
"They are evolving," Kael realized. The cold knot in his stomach intensified. "If they kill, they get stronger. Just like me."
The realization hit him like a punch.
This wasn't a survival crisis where you had to wait for the army. This was a biological arms race. Every minute he spent hiding, the monsters out there were becoming more specialized, more lethal.
If he stayed in the apartment, eventually one of those evolved Vectors would tear down the wall. And by then, he would still be entry-level food.
He had to go out. He had to kill. He had to get Biomass.
Kael went to his room. He emptied his university backpack, dumping the textbooks onto the floor. They were useless now. He put in two water bottles, a pack of jerky, and a roll of duct tape.
He returned to the kitchen. He used the duct tape to strap a couple of thick magazines around his forearms. It was pathetic makeshift armor, but it might stop a bite or a superficial scratch.
He grabbed the chef's knife with his right hand. In his left, he took a claw hammer from his toolbox.
He stood in front of the shattered door of his apartment. The hallway was dark. Only the emergency lights flickered, casting long, dancing shadows. He could hear moans and shuffling footsteps on the floors above and below.
The building was a hunting ground now.
Kael took a deep breath, the metallic air filling his lungs. His new muscles tensed in anticipation. The fear was still there, but now it was under control, subjugated by cold determination.
"System," he muttered, "show me the way to the top of the food chain."
He took the first step into the hallway. The hunt had begun.