Kael slowly opened his eyes but saw only darkness. He was wrapped in a black zipped body bag, the plastic pressing against his face, suffocating and tight.
Am I dead?
No. Dead people didn't think. Dead people didn't feel the cold seeping through the bag, didn't smell the rotting garbage surrounding him, didn't hear the distant cawing of birds fighting over scraps.
After some initial struggle, he managed to find the zipper and pull. The bag opened with a harsh RRRIIIP, and Kael crawled out into a world of filth.
He found himself in the middle of a dump yard. Mountains of trash stretched in every direction—broken furniture, food waste, discarded electronics, and other bags. Human-shaped bags. His stomach churned as he realized how many others had been thrown away like garbage.
The rotten odor hit him like a physical force. BLARGH— He almost vomited, barely managing to swallow it back down.
"I'm... I'm still alive?" he muttered in confusion as he looked at his hands and legs to check if everything was fine.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
HOST STATUS: STABLE
CELLULAR REGENERATION: 97% COMPLETE
MANA RESERVES: 42/180
The screen flickered before his eyes, visible only to him. So it hadn't been a hallucination. The Devourer System was real. He was real. Alive against all odds.
There was no problem he could see with his body. He tried to move his arms—they worked. He tried to walk—his legs held. Everything seemed normal. Better than normal, actually. He felt stronger.
"Did they throw me here because they thought I was dead?" he muttered, looking around at the endless garbage. Doctor Min. The scientist with the pitying eyes had put him here instead of the incinerator. He'd left air in the bag. He'd saved him.
Why? Kael wondered. Why help me after all these years of watching them torture me?
He didn't have an answer. But he filed the information away for later.
Hundreds of questions gathered inside his head as he chose a random direction and started walking through the garbage. Each step sank into soft, rotting matter. The smell was indescribable—a thick, cloying stench that coated his tongue and made his eyes water.
PAM
His foot hit something solid. Kael looked down and froze.
A hand. Human. Sticking out of a black bag similar to the one he'd escaped from.
Kael stared at it for a long moment. How many had died in the Whitmore facility? How many had been experimented on, tortured, broken? How many families would never know what happened to their loved ones?
I'll make them pay, he promised silently. Every single one of them.
He continued walking, stepping over and around the bags. After what felt like an hour, he finally reached the edge of the dump. Solid ground. Dirt. Weeds. Freedom.
Kael dropped to his knees and pressed his palms into the earth, feeling the rough texture. Five years. Five years without touching soil, without feeling wind, without seeing the sky.
He looked up.
The sky was gray, overcast, threatening rain. But it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Tears spilled from his eyes—not many, just a few, stubborn drops that escaped despite his control. He wiped them away quickly.
No more crying.
He stood and kept walking.
A broken fence marked the boundary of the dump. Beyond it stretched a field of tall grass, and beyond that, Kael could see buildings. A town. Civilization.
His stomach growled loudly. When had he last eaten? The facility had fed him just enough to keep him alive for experiments—thin gruel, stale bread, water. Nothing substantial. Nothing real.
Food, he thought. I need food.
But he had no money. No shoes. No clothes except the thin, filthy prison robe that barely covered him. He looked like what he was—an escaped experiment, a beggar, nothing.
SLASH
His leg caught on something sharp hidden in the grass. Kael hissed, looking down. A piece of metal—part of an old machine—had sliced his calf open. Blood welled from the wound, bright red against pale skin.
URGH—
But before he could even finish the gasp, something strange happened.
The wound... healed.
Right before his eyes, the torn flesh knitted itself back together. New skin formed. Within seconds, there was no sign that he'd been cut at all. Just a smear of blood on his leg, the only evidence anything had happened.
Kael stared, eyes widening. "What the—?"
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
ABILITY DETECTED: REGENERATION (PASSIVE)
GRADE: ??? (EVOLVING)
SOURCE: DHAMPIR BLOODLINE ACTIVATION
Regeneration? He hadn't consumed anything for this. Hadn't stolen it from anyone. This was his.
Kael remembered his mother's words, spoken years ago when he was too young to understand. "Our family has old blood, Kael. Very old blood. One day, you might inherit gifts you never expected."
Was this what she meant? The ageless physique—the ability that made his mother and brother Sarae stop aging—had it mutated in him? Become something else?
He tested it deliberately. Picked up a sharp piece of glass from the grass and pressed it against his palm. The blade cut deep—SLASH—and Kael watched as the wound sealed itself in seconds.
PAM
The glass fell from his suddenly trembling hand.
"I can heal," he whispered. "I can actually heal."
A bitter laugh escaped his throat. Five years of torture, and this power had been sleeping inside him the whole time. Five years of pain when his body could have repaired itself.
No, he realized. It only activated after I died. After the system bonded with me.
The Devourer System hadn't given him powers. It had unlocked what was already there.
Kael looked at his hands—his thin, scarred, filthy hands—and for the first time in five years, he didn't see weakness. He saw potential.
He continued walking, leaving the dump behind. The grass field gave way to a road—old asphalt cracked and patched, but undeniably a road. Civilization was close now.
His stomach growled again. Grrrrrrrrr.
"Shut up," he muttered at it. "I know."
But as he walked along the road, movement caught his eye. In the field beside him, something small and brown darted through the grass.
A rabbit.
Kael stopped, staring at it. Meat. Food. Mana.
MANA SOURCE DETECTED: RABBIT (LOW-GRADE BEAST - MINIMAL MANA)
30% CHANCE TO ACQUIRE ABILITY UPON CONSUMPTION
POSSIBLE ABILITIES: ENHANCED SPEED, KEEN HEARING, BURROWING
He'd eaten rats in the facility. A rabbit was practically a feast.
But how to catch it? He had no weapons, no tools, no—
He moved.
WHOOSH—
His body responded faster than he expected. In three strides, he crossed the distance to where the rabbit had been. His hand shot out—GRAB—and caught it by the scruff of its neck before it could escape.
The rabbit squealed, kicking frantically.
Kael held it up, looking into its terrified eyes. For a moment, he felt a flicker of something—pity? Guilt?—but his stomach growled again, and the feeling vanished.
I've been prey long enough.
He focused on the rabbit, reaching for that pulling sensation he'd felt with the rats.
DEVOUR INITIATED
The rabbit dissolved in his hands, turning into motes of light that flowed into his chest. It was faster than with the rats—his control was improving.
MANA ABSORBED: 8 UNITS
ABILITY ACQUIRED: KEEN HEARING (GRADE: F)
PERMANENT ABILITY SLOT FILLED: KEEN HEARING - HEAR SOUNDS FROM UP TO 500 METERS AWAY
Suddenly, the world exploded with sound.
Kael stumbled, hands flying to his ears. Birds chirping—too loud. Wind rustling grass—a roar. His own heartbeat—THUMP THUMP THUMP—like drums in his skull.
It took a full minute to adjust, to learn to filter. But once he did...
He could hear everything.
A car engine, kilometers away. Conversation from the town ahead. A dog barking. A child laughing. The world had opened up in a way he'd never imagined.
Kael smiled—a real smile, the first in years.
"I'm really doing this," he whispered.
He walked for another two hours before reaching the town.
It was small—a few streets, some shops, houses scattered around. Nothing like the cities he'd seen in old videos before the System Apocalypse. But compared to the facility, it was paradise.
Kael entered the town cautiously, keeping to shadows, observing. People walked the streets normally, unafraid. Some carried weapons—swords, axes, even guns—but most seemed ordinary. Shops displayed goods. Children played in a small park.
Normal life, Kael thought. I'd forgotten what it looks like.
His prison robe drew stares. People wrinkled their noses at his smell, averted their eyes, crossed the street to avoid him. He was used to it. In the facility, everyone looked through him like he was furniture. Here, at least, they looked at him.
His stomach demanded attention again. GRRRROOOOOWWWWL.
Food. He needed food.
A small restaurant sat on the corner of the main street. Through its window, Kael could see people eating—hot food, steaming, real. His mouth watered.
I have no money, he reminded himself.
But he was tired of having nothing. Tired of being nothing.
He pushed open the door.
CREAK—
The restaurant was small—a few tables, a counter, a kitchen in back. About a dozen customers sat eating. They all turned to look at the filthy boy in the ragged robe who had just entered.
For a moment, silence.
Then: "What the hell is that?"
"Some beggar kid. Get him out of here!"
"Can't even afford clothes, look at him. Disgusting."
Kael ignored them, walking toward the counter where a man in an apron stood gaping. "I need food," he said. His voice was hoarse from years of disuse, rough from screaming.
The waiter—a thin man with a sneer—blocked his path. "You think this is a charity? Get lost, beggar. We don't serve your kind here."
"I need food," Kael repeated.
The waiter laughed. "You need a lot of things, kid. A bath. Clothes. Money. But since you have none of that—" He grabbed Kael's shoulder, spinning him toward the door. "SCRAM!"
Kael didn't move.
The waiter's hand, pushing him, encountered resistance like a wall. He tried again—PUSH—and Kael stood firm.
"I said," Kael's voice dropped to a whisper, "I need food."
The waiter's sneer faltered. Something in those blue eyes—those empty, dead eyes—made him uneasy. But he had a reputation to maintain. Customers were watching.
"You little shit." He drew back his hand—SLAP—aiming for Kael's face.
GRAB
Kael's hand caught his wrist mid-swing. The waiter's eyes went wide as he realized he couldn't pull free. It was like his hand was trapped in steel.
"Let go, you little bastard!" the waiter snarled, struggling.
Kael squeezed.
CRACK
Bones broke. The waiter SCREAMED—a high, piercing sound that echoed through the restaurant.
Everyone froze.
Kael released the man's shattered wrist and watched him crumple to the ground, sobbing. Then he looked up at the customers—the same people who'd called him disgusting, who'd wanted him thrown out.
"Anyone else want me to leave?" he asked quietly.
Silence.
TIC... TIC... TIC...
The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the hush.
Then: "He's an awakened!"
"Some kind of freak!"
"We gotta call the AFO!"
"Kill him before he kills us!"
Chairs scraped back. Several men stood, grabbing improvised weapons—a bottle, a chair, a knife from the table.
Kael watched them come, feeling... nothing. No fear. No anger. Just a cold, empty void where emotions should be.
They're just like the scientists, he realized. Just like Morgan. Just like everyone who ever hurt me.
Humans.
The first man swung a chair at his head. Kael caught it one-handed, crushed it to splinters with his grip, and threw a punch.
BAM
The man flew backward, crashed through a table, and didn't move.
Another came at him with a knife—SLASH—aiming for his throat. Kael let it hit. The blade bit deep—URK—but even as the man smiled in triumph, the wound healed.
What the—
Kael grabbed his head. Squeezed.
CRUNCH
The man dropped.
Three more rushed him together. Kael met them head-on, his newly awakened strength making them feel like children. PAM—POW—CRACK—bodies flew, bones broke, blood sprayed.
Within two minutes, everyone who'd attacked lay dead or dying on the floor.
The remaining customers huddled in corners, trembling, praying.
Kael stood among the bodies, blood dripping from his hands, his face expressionless. He looked at the survivors—the ones who'd only watched, only jeered, only called him names.
"Please... please don't kill us," a woman begged, tears streaming.
"We didn't attack you!"
"We're sorry! We're so sorry!"
Kael stared at them for a long moment.
Then he turned, walked behind the counter, and started pulling food from the kitchen. Bread. Meat. Fruit. He ate standing there, ignoring the whimpers and prayers behind him, devouring everything in sight.
MANA ABSORBED FROM FOOD: 12 UNITS
HUNGER SATISFIED: TEMPORARY
When he finished, he looked at the survivors again. "The AFO," he said. "What is it?"
No one answered for a moment. Then an old man, braver than the rest, spoke up. "The Awakened Federal Organisation. Government Awakens who hunt down criminals. They'll come for you if you stay."
Hunt me down.
Kael nodded slowly. "Let them come."
He walked toward the door, stepping over bodies, leaving bloody footprints behind.