Chapter 2: The Taste of Life
The cold, worn wood of my apartment door seemed to tremble under my touch. The sounds from outside—once muffled—had become a cacophony of high‑pitched screams, twisting metal, and a guttural growl that made the hair on my neck stand on end. My hand shook, gripping the kitchen knife as if it were some sacred relic. The twenty‑centimeter blade that had cut bread yesterday now felt pathetically inadequate for whatever waited beyond that door.
I took a deep breath, the stagnant air of the studio apartment heavy in my lungs. The smell of stale coffee and dust was replaced by a wave of adrenaline that made me nauseous. If I don't go, I die. If I go… I might die. The logic was simple and brutal, like the rules of a badly coded game.
"Mission," I muttered, and the translucent blue window flashed before my eyes, overlapping the peeling wall of the corridor.
[Initial Survival Mission]
Objective: Eliminate the nearby invading threat.
Reward: 150 XP, Random Item.
Failure: Possible death.
[Location: Street below your building. A Level 1 creature has appeared.]
Possible death. The phrase danced in my mind. It wasn't certain death—which, from an optimistically insane point of view, was a flicker of hope. I closed my eyes and turned the doorknob.
The building's corridor was eerily silent. The doors of my neighbors—usually leaking loud music or family arguments—were closed and still. Panic had silenced everyone. I started down the stairs, my footsteps echoing like hammer blows. With each floor, the street noises grew clearer—and more terrifying.
"Status," I thought, testing the mental command. The mission window was replaced by another, more detailed one.
Name: Klaus
Race: Human / Symbiont
Level: 1 (XP 0 / 150)
HP: 150 / 150
MP: 250 / 250
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Defense: 5
Vitality: 5
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 15
Mana: 5
I analyzed the numbers with the eye of someone who'd spent half his life in MMOs. My physical stats were mediocre—the standard for a sedentary human. Strength 5 probably meant I'd struggle carrying groceries. Defense 5? A good punch would send me to the hospital. Vitality 5 equaled 150 HP—so shallow a pool that any halfway‑decent monster could drain it in one hit.
But my Intelligence was 15—triple the others. That had always been my edge: analyzing, planning, exploiting loopholes in systems. In games, I was the strategist, the back‑line mage controlling the battlefield. Here, in real life, holding a kitchen knife, I had no idea how to use that advantage.
"Skills," I whispered. The screen changed again, listing my bizarre new powers. Authority of Vital Absorption glowed with a dim, sinister light. The description was clear: I could drain the life of others to strengthen myself. A vampire's power. A dark lord's gift. I, who could barely call for pizza, now had the power to steal the souls of living beings. The irony was so thick I almost laughed. A dry, nervous chuckle escaped my lips.
I reached the ground floor. The glass door at the entrance was shattered, shards scattered across the lobby. The smell of ozone—and something else, metallic and sweet like blood—hit my nostrils. I peeked through the broken frame.
Chaos. Cars were stopped at strange angles, some with alarms blaring in manic rhythm. People ran, screamed, disappeared into shops and alleys. And in the center of it all stood the "invading threat."
It was a rat. A rat the size of a Saint Bernard. Its thin, gray fur revealed pink, diseased skin covered in pulsating boils. Its eyes were two red dots of malice, and thick yellow saliva dripped from its mouth. It moved unnaturally fast, claws long and curved like sickles, tearing the asphalt with every step. A Putrid Mole‑Rat—the kind of low‑level creature you fight in a tutorial—but seeing it here, real and grotesque, was different.
It was busy. Its claws shredded the metal of a car, trying to reach something—or someone—inside. I could hear a woman's terrified sobs.
My first instinct was to retreat, go back to the relative safety of my apartment, pretend none of this was happening. But the mission screen floated in my vision, a constant reminder: Failure: Possible Death. The system wasn't giving me the option to be a coward.
"Okay, Klaus, think. Intelligence 15. Use it," I told myself, voice trembling. "You're not a warrior. You can't fight head‑on."
I looked at the knife in my hand. I'd have to get close—but how? The monster was focused on the car. It was my only chance: a sneak attack.
As I prepared to move, a random thought crossed my mind. What if I need both hands? Where do I store this? Instinctively, I thought: Inventory.
A new window appeared, much simpler than the others—a grid with five empty squares. Five slots. Pathetically small, but better than nothing. I focused on the knife and gave a mental push. It vanished from my hand in a blink, no sound, no flash. A tiny kitchen‑knife icon appeared in the first square. Fascinated, I focused again, and the knife reappeared with the same weight and chill as before.
A small smile crept onto my face. It was real. All of it was real. The discovery gave me a sliver of confidence.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the street. I kept low, using parked cars for cover, moving slowly—my level‑5 Agility making every step feel clumsy and loud to my own ears. The rat kept clawing at the car, its growls masking the sound of my feet on the rain‑slick asphalt.
I got within a few meters. The stench from the creature was unbearable—a mix of rot and sewage. I could see the muscles twitching under its sickly skin as it tore through metal. It was now or never.
With a cry that was more a squeal of panic, I charged. The monster turned at the sound, red eyes locking onto me. Time seemed to slow. I saw its mouth open, revealing yellow, jagged teeth. I didn't hesitate. Channeling every ounce of my pathetic Strength 5, I drove the knife into its flank.
The resistance was greater than I expected. The blade sank only a few centimeters, hitting muscle and bone. The rat let out a roar of pain and fury that made my ears ring. In one swift motion, it swiped at me with a front paw. Claws tore into my arm and chest.
A searing pain exploded through me. I was thrown backward, crashing onto the ground. My status window flashed red.
[-70 HP]
HP: 80 / 150
Half my life gone in one blow. Blood poured down my arm, hot and sticky. Panic gripped me, cold and absolute. I was going to die—alone, on some random street in São Paulo, gutted by a nightmare rat.
The monster turned fully toward me, ignoring the car. It advanced, its low growl vibrating in my chest. I crawled backward, desperate, but it was useless. It was too fast.
Then desperation triggered something inside me. A primordial instinct—a hunger that wasn't mine. The ability. Authority of Vital Absorption.
"Absorb!" I screamed in my mind, thrusting a trembling hand toward the approaching beast.
Something tore free from within me. From the palm of my hand, a faint shadow extended outward—like a tentacle of darkness—and latched onto the mole‑rat.
The sensation was immediate and visceral. It was as if I'd jammed a straw into the creature's soul. A cold current flowed up my arm, energy not warm like blood but icy and electric. It was the essence of life—raw, unfiltered. And it had a taste. A mental flavor—a mix of fear, pain, and rage—that flooded my mind.
The rat hesitated. It squealed, confused, its attack losing momentum. It seemed… weaker.
At the same time, warmth spread through my body from my chest outward. The pain in my arm and torso began to fade. I looked at the cuts and saw, shocked, the skin knitting together, the bleeding stopping.
New notifications appeared.
[+10 Vital Energy absorbed]
[Vital Energy converted: +100 HP]
HP: 180 / 150
My HP didn't just recover—it overflowed. A surge of strength, of overflowing vitality, coursed through me. The pain vanished, replaced by a dangerous euphoria.
The mole‑rat, now visibly slower, tried to attack again, but its strike was clumsy. The dark tether still bound it to me, draining it. I stood, knife in hand. Fear had turned into cold, sharp clarity.
I advanced. It recoiled. The hunter had become the hunted.
More! I thought, feeling a dark greed rise within me.
I attacked again, aiming for its red eyes. It dodged, but I managed to stab its shoulder. It screamed, and I kept Vital Absorption active. Every second, I felt its energy draining into me. It was a drug—addictive and terrifying. I saw the light fade from its eyes, its fur dull, its boils shrivel. It was dying—and I was the cause. And, to my horror, I was enjoying it.
I kept going. Slash after slash. Each wound strengthened the flow. The creature staggered, its legs giving out. It collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, convulsing. The connection broke as the last spark of life left it.
The silence that followed was deafening. I stood there, panting, covered in blood and street grime. The giant rat's body began to dissolve, turning into particles of dark light that faded into the air, leaving nothing behind.
Then the notifications came—a torrent of blue light.
[You killed Putrid Mole‑Rat (Level 1)]
[+150 XP]
[Level Up!]
[Level 1 → Level 2]
[All attributes +1. You have gained 2 attribute points to distribute.]
[Initial Survival Mission Completed!]
[Reward Received: Random Item (Wooden Chest)]
I looked at my hands. They still trembled—but not from fear. It was the reverberation of power, the act of killing and absorbing another creature's life. The phantom taste of its essence lingered in my mind. That was the true power of the symbiont. It wasn't just about healing or merging—it was about consuming.
I opened my inventory. In the second slot sat a small wooden chest. I tapped its icon, and it materialized in my hands. I opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a single gray orb, the size of a marble, pulsing with faint light.
[Monster Core (Rank F)]
Description: A condensed energy core from a low‑level monster. Can be used for various purposes.
I had no idea what "various purposes" meant, so I stored it back in my inventory.
The car alarm finally went silent. The door opened, and a woman stumbled out, crying