Blood.
It called to him.
It sang in his veins like a forgotten lullaby laced with rage.
Damon's bare feet splashed in rain-slick puddles, moving from a limp to a sprint. The alley stretched ahead, painted in neon red by the distant city lights. His tangled black hair clung to his face, eyes glowing with a hellish glint—like dying coals in a furnace ready to be stoked.
At the alley's mouth, the gang loitered. Five men. Armed. Laughing.
Until they saw his eyes.
"…Yo, what the hell—?"
"That's him! That's the freak!"
The broad-shouldered leader stepped forward, face scarred from a blade long ago. He drew a pistol with practiced ease. "You should be dead. I killed you, freak. I watched you bleed out like a dog."
He didn't hesitate.
Bang.
The shot cracked like thunder, bouncing between the brick walls of the alley.
Damon didn't flinch.
The bullet struck his chest—and flattened, clinking to the pavement like a coin.
For a moment, silence. Even the rain paused.
Damon blinked, more confused than impressed.
"…Huh."
> [Passive Skill Unlocked – Bloodskin Lv.1]
Your flesh now resists low-caliber impact. Further upgrades will enhance resistance.
The system's voice whispered in his mind, icy and intimate. A purr slithering down his spine.
The leader's grip tightened on the pistol. "What the hell is this guy?!"
Damon stepped forward.
No, not stepped.
Glided.
Predatory. Unstoppable.
"You stabbed me in the gut," he said, voice low and smooth like silk wrapped around a knife. "Left me bleeding in the street while you laughed."
He vanished.
A blur.
One moment he was five meters away.
The next—he was behind the leader.
"Wha—"
Damon grabbed the man's head—and slammed it into the brick wall.
Crack.
Skull. Stone. Blood.
The man crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Gasps. Screams.
One of the thugs lunged, knife drawn—but Damon caught his wrist mid-air, twisted, and snapped it backward.
Crunch.
The blade fell. Damon caught it mid-fall, reverse-grip.
"Don't," the man whimpered. "Please—I didn't mean—"
Too late.
Damon rammed the blade into his throat.
Smooth. Clean. Like slicing warm butter.
Blood sprayed across the alley walls, steaming in the cold.
> [Bloodfeed initiated…]
[Bloodcore stabilized: 17%]
Damon's body shuddered. A gasp tore from his throat.
Not pain.
Power.
It flooded his limbs, burned behind his eyes, crawled through his chest like liquid fire.
His heart beat once—and he felt alive in a way he never had before.
He turned.
Three left.
One ran.
Damon's eyes locked on him.
"No."
> [Skill Unlocked – Bloodlash Lv.1]
His arm whipped forward.
A tendril of blood burst from his palm like a crimson whip, coiling around the runner's ankle.
The thug screamed as he was yanked off his feet and dragged across the concrete, sparks and blood flying as his skin scraped raw.
Damon walked toward him—slow, methodical.
He stepped over the bodies like they were broken chairs.
"Do you feel it?" Damon asked softly, crouching by the twitching man. "That fear. That helplessness."
The man's eyes rolled back, blood bubbling from his mouth.
Damon raised his foot.
"Good."
CRUNCH.
Skull met concrete.
> [Bloodcore: 35%]
[System Note: Killing violent offenders grants full essence. Efficiency bonus applied.]
The last two gang members dropped to their knees.
One pissed himself.
"I—I didn't mean it," the sobbing one said, eyes wide and trembling. "We were just—just messing around! Please—!"
"You knew," Damon growled. "You all knew what you were."
He lifted the knife again.
Then paused.
The blood dripped, steaming in the cold.
Their eyes—pleading, human. Weak.
Like his had been.
Like he'd pleaded.
A memory slashed through his mind like a blade.
The cold street.
The laughter.
The pain.
Lilith's voice echoed like smoke in his skull.
> "Feed. Or die again."
His grip tightened. His hand shook.
> [Warning: Bloodcore unstable.]
[Target kill minimum: 4/5]
[Kill one more to complete Initiation.]
The system was hungry. So was he.
He pointed at the one who had wet himself.
"You."
"NO—!"
Damon lunged.
Steel met flesh. The scream stopped midway.
> [Kill confirmed. Bloodcore stabilized: 100%]
He stood, breathing hard, chest rising and falling.
The system sang.
> [Initiation Complete.]
[Reward Unlocked – Skill: Crimson Surge Lv.1]
[Passive Regeneration Unlocked.]
[All injuries healed.]
Pain faded from his body in an instant.
His muscles no longer ached. The bruises vanished. Cuts sealed.
He was new.
No—reborn.
The final gang member stared up at him, frozen in horror.
"What… what are you?" he croaked.
Damon crouched beside him.
"Alive," he said. "And that's bad news for you."
The man flinched.
"But…" Damon stood. "You didn't stab me. You didn't laugh. You just… stood there."
He turned.
"I'm giving you a chance."
The man blinked.
"What?"
"Get out of my sight. But if I ever see you again—if I hear your name, smell your fear—I'll rip out your spine."
The man scrambled to his feet and ran, tripping over corpses and sobs.
Damon stood alone in the alley.
Rain pattered down, quieter now.
The silence after slaughter.
He closed his eyes. Inhaled.
And felt… alive.
Lilith stepped from the shadows, clapping slowly.
"Well done," she said with a hint of reverence. "I knew you had it in you."
Damon didn't turn. "You used me."
"I freed you," she countered. "You think you were living before this?"
He turned, blood-streaked face unreadable.
"Why me?"
Lilith tilted her head, the smile fading. "Because you were broken. Forgotten. And broken things, when reforged… become weapons."
Damon clenched his fists. "I should kill you."
"You can try," she whispered, unafraid.
> [New Quest Available – Bloodbound Ascension]
Objective: Join a Blood Sect. Choose a Path.
— Predator
— Sovereign
— Shade
Damon's jaw tightened as the options burned into his vision.
Lilith stepped closer, fingers gently brushing his chest where the bullet had struck.
"You choose who you become, Damon Cross," she whispered. "A hunter. A king. Or a shadow in the dark."
She smiled—something ancient behind those eyes.
"Feed. Rise. And one day… take your throne."
Thunder cracked across the sky, splitting the heavens.
Damon looked up—not at the clouds.
But at the world above.
He didn't see stars.
He saw a battlefield.
He saw the start of something massive.
He grinned, slow and feral.
"Bring it on."