Ezra woke up choking on the smell of blood.
His eyes opened slowly, and the world before him was a nightmare painted in red. Everywhere he looked, there was blood — dark, thick, unbroken. The forest floor beneath him was soaked, and many of the creatures lying motionless around him were nothing he recognized as ordinary wildlife.
His hands were sticky and heavy. His clothes were clotted with crimson. When he reached up and touched his mouth, wetness coated his fingers.
His heart pounded so violently he couldn't think at first.
"What… what happened here?" he whispered, voice uneven.
When he tried to push himself up, he noticed something about his body that wasn't normal — he felt bigger, denser, stronger. His limbs didn't shake the way they used to, and his muscles moved with unfamiliar strength.
Ezra scrambled upright.
"N–no… what is this…?"
Confusion washed over him, but it barely formed before a sound snapped him to attention.
Crunch.
Footsteps.
Ezra froze.
A man emerged between the trees, holding a rifle, eyes sharp and alert. A hunter.
Fear detonated in Ezra's chest.
If he sees me like this—
His body moved before his mind could.
Run.
The forest blurred violently. Trees stretched into streaks off green and black as the ground vanished beneath his feet. Wind screamed past his ears.
"I—I'm not this fast—!"
A massive tree loomed ahead.
Impact.
The trunk shattered on contact, splintering apart as Ezra was thrown backward. Pain flared for a heartbeat—
Then disappeared.
He lay there, staring at the sky.
"…It doesn't hurt."
That realisation terrified him more than the blood.
Ezra ran again—this time controlled, deliberate. He didn't stop until concrete replaced soil and city lights burned into the horizon.
He rushed straight home.
The moment the door closed behind him, the smell hit him fully.
Blood.
Sweat.
Decay.
Ezra stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot water slammed against his skin, red spiralling down the drain in thick streams. He scrubbed desperately, hands shaking, breath uneven.
Only when the water finally ran clear did he slow.
His reflection in the mirror was unsettling. A face he barely recognized stared back — sharper features, a hint of feral lines under his eyes, and hair that had grown longer than he remembered.
His thoughts flickered back to the forest.
That thing… that window.
Ezra called up his status window again — this time consciously.
Ezra | Class: None | Race: Hybrid Origin
Strength: 15 | Vitality: 13 | Endurance: 13
Agility: 18 | Intelligence: 15 | Mana: 13
He stared at the words Hybrid Origin.
Then he selected Details.
Information filled his vision — but it felt like lore, not just stats:
Original Werewolves — the oldest werewolf bloodline in existence, part of the very first wolf-kind far older than modern lycanthropes. They could shapeshift at will and possessed heightened senses and strength far beyond ordinary werewolves.
Original Vampires — the first generation of vampires ever created. From them, all other vampires in the world descended. They were the oldest, fastest, strongest, most powerful of their kind, with abilities that far exceeded normal vampires.
Both lines were ancient. Both were legendary.
And now… both were part of him.
Ezra wiped his hands on a towel and sat at his desk. He opened his laptop and began searching for information about vampires and werewolves in this world as actual species — not just system descriptions, but real-world articles, reports, and news pages.
Hours passed as he read about:
how Original Vampires were created through ancient magic to be superior to werewolves how the Original Pack of werewolves was considered pure-blood ancient lineage, not a curse how ordinary vampires and werewolves arose after the gates appearedhow humans had learned to live alongside various new species
Ezra's chest tightened with every page.
Then he remembered.
The body.
He switched on the TV.
The news channel was running a headline.
A vampire guild leader — Lucien Castle, an Original Vampire of towering reputation — stood beside government officials. The reporter said the incident in the alley was not sanctioned by any known guild authority:
"It appears the actions were taken by an unidentified individual outside all existing regulations," Lucien said calmly. "We will cooperate with authorities to determine responsibility."
The victim's name appeared on the screen.
An orphan.
Ezra felt something hollow open up inside him.
He himself was an orphan.
He lowered his head.
He glanced at the date being shown on the broadcast.
One week had passed.
A full week gone since that night.
And he had just realized it.
His hair was longer. His body… changed.
Only one week left until the big academy test.
Ezra stood, trembling slightly, and walked to a nearby salon.
He emerged an hour later with short hair and a clean face.
When he returned home, he walked up a small hill outside town where a grave marked the woman he had killed.
Flowers in hand, he dropped them gently on the soil.
"I didn't choose this," he said quietly. "I didn't know… but I will live with what I've done."
Tears glistened, silent and steady.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The words lingered in the cold air, but for the first time since waking up, Ezra didn't feel completely hollow.
As he stood there, something shifted inside him—not the hunger, not the blood, but a quiet resolve. This power hadn't come from ambition or desire. It had come from loss. From pain. From a choice he never truly had.
Yet it was real.
And for the first time in his life, Ezra realized something terrifying—and hopeful.
He could dream now.
Back when his parents were alive, he had once said it out loud, half-laughing, half-serious:
I'll become the strongest hunter one day. I'll kill every monster so no one has to lose their family again.
He had buried that dream with them.
But standing before this grave, with blood on his hands and power in his veins, the thought returned—not as a fantasy, but as a path.
Ezra bowed once more, then turned away—eyes steady, back straight.
For the first time, his future didn't look empty.
It looked dangerous.
And he was ready to walk it.
Far away, in a room bathed in darkness, the glow of a news screen lit up red eyes.
A tall man dressed in black watched intently.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
This wasn't a simple, unsanctioned incident.
It was something else.
He turned to his servant.
"Find who did this."
A smile curved his lips.
[Status Window]
Name: Ezra
Class: None
Race: Hybrid Origin
Strength: 15
Vitality: 13
Endurance: 13
Agility: 18
Intelligence: 15
Mana: 13