Zian paused, whiskers twitching as he confirmed the kill.
Seeing a mangled corpse drenched in blood didn't bother him in the slightest. Compared to what he had seen and done, this was child's play.
'Now for the real work.'
He climbed onto the man's torso, claws finding gap on the fabric of his shirt.
The stomach presented the easiest entry point—soft flesh, minimal bone obstruction.
'If my memory's correct, the liver should be around here…'
His teeth punched through the belly. Muscle fibers parted like wet paper as he burrowed deeper, following the scent of internal organs.
More blood spilled, and the reek of waste hit him as he accidentally ruptured the intestine. Even he felt a flicker of discomfort.
'There.'
The liver sat dark beneath layers of fat and tissue. Zian tore into it, expecting the metallic taste of organ meat.
What he didn't expect was the after taste.
Energy flooded through his small body like electricity. His muscles felt tighter, his senses sharper.
'Well, that's interesting.'
He consumed another chunk, savoring rush of strength that followed.
Raw meat had never appealed to him as a human, but this body craved it. The blood, the texture—everything felt natural.
'No point wasting good protein.'
The system wanted one liver, but he decided to strip the corpse clean—leaving out only a few organs that were too much for consumption. Bones were also out of the question.
And just like that, he crossed into cannibalism. Though as a monster, it was simply feeding.
***
***
***
Morning light filtered through the windows, casting pale rectangles across the blood-stained floor.
Zian tested his limbs, noting the changes overnight.
His body stayed the same size, but his muscles were denser, especially around the jaw.
He tested his new jaw on the chair leg, teeth sinking in and leaving deep, neat grooves in the grain.
'Good. I'm getting stronger.'
Last night's mission went just as planned, but he still felt uneasy. His instincts told him to always be careful in unknown places.
'I should remain here for the time being. No point exposing myself too soon.'
The apartment would serve as his hunting ground.
Map the building. Profile every tenant. No rushing. No mistakes.
In the CIA they called this laying the groundwork.
knock! knock! knock!
Three sharp raps echoed from the main door.
"Tommy! Open up, you deadbeat."
Zian climbed to the peephole, peering through the glass.
A woman stood there, around forty, chestnut hair pulled into a tidy tail. The green jogging attire did little to hide her thick ass.
"Pay your rent or you're out tomorrow. I mean it this time." she added.
'Shit.'
Should her eyes fall on the half-eaten corpse, the crowd would come, and his perfect base would crumble.
'Change of plans, Kill the landlord first,'
Zian memorized every line of her face through the distorted glass.
As the woman's footsteps retreated down the hallway, Zian waited for the sound to fade, before slipping out of the room.
Dark gaps lined the baseboards—rat highways carved through years of neglect. He squeezed into the nearest hole.
thud!
thud!
thud!
The walls carried her footstep as she climbed.
Zian followed the sound upward, navigating through a maze of chewed insulation and rotting timber.
Two floors up, her footsteps stopped.
Keys jingled, followed by the solid thunk of a door opening and closing.
Zian emerged from a gap near the ceiling, clinging to crown molding as he surveyed her room.
'This place is way better,'
Clean hardwood floors gleamed under warm lighting. Fresh paint covered the walls. A leather sofa faced a modern television, flanked by well-tended plants.
No family photos on the mantle. No children's toys scattered about.
She moved through the room, dropping her keys into a ceramic bowl by the door.
Single. Middle-aged. Lives alone.
'Heh… just what I needed.'
"Meow!"
The sudden cry of a cat made him pause. At first, he didn't care—just another small animal he could easily kill.
But then the sound multiplied.
One meow became two. Then five. Then ten.
From the shadows, pairs of glowing eyes blinked at him.
Cats—an entire room full of them.
'Goddamn it… of course. The stereotype's real. Single women and their damn cats.'
He retreated immediately. Twice the size of a normal rat or not, a pack of cats would tear him apart.
'Can't believe I've run into my natural enemy this early.'