"Mercy is a myth spoken by those who have never bled in the dark."
— Fragment of the Lost Codex, Age of Ash
I die before I realize I'm dying.
No drama. No slow fade. Just pain—searing, absolute—and the taste of iron on my tongue.
The car came out of nowhere. Headlights, a flash of movement, a woman's scream. Then the world shattered. My body folded wrong, bones breaking in ways they shouldn't, and I remember thinking, absurdly, I still had groceries in the back seat.
Then nothing.
No tunnel, no angels, no peace. Just the long fall into a void that tastes of static and rot.
At first, I think I'm dreaming. The darkness hums with a low vibration, something old and alive beneath it. A whisper curls through the black:
«Soul Detected.»
«Integrity: 47%. Fragmentation in progress.»
«Host body unavailable. Searching compatible vessel…»
I try to scream, but I have no mouth. No body. Only awareness—and the growing dread that something is using me.
«Error: Memory cohesion unstable. Initiating compression.»
A thousand moments flash before me—my mother's voice, the smell of rain, a girl I almost loved, and the way I hated myself for never doing enough. Then they burn away, compressed into a single word that remains: me.
And even that starts to dissolve.
«Suitable vessel located.»
«Warning: Species incompatible.»
«Override accepted.»
The world ignites.
I wake gasping—or I think I do. My lungs burn, but when I draw air, it fills me with scents instead of oxygen. Cold stone. Wet moss. Iron and decay. My eyes open to a forest painted in grayscale twilight.
And my hands—
I don't have hands.
Black fur gleams where skin should be. Claws dig into the dirt. Every muscle in my new body vibrates with feral tension.
No. No, no, no—this isn't—
I stumble forward, or maybe crawl. Instinct fights memory. I trip over my own limbs, slam into a tree, and the bark cuts through my fur. Pain flashes bright, and I snarl by reflex—a sound too low, too real, too animal.
The echo that comes back isn't human.
«Reincarnation complete.»
«Species: Lesser Dire Wolf (Feral Grade).»
«Synchronization: 61%. Cognitive suppression predicted.»
«System initializing…»
«Welcome, fragment.»
I freeze.
That voice—it's not spoken. It's inside me. Not warm, not kind, just… mechanical. Like a god that learned to speak through broken machinery.
"What… what am I?" The words don't make sense when I try to speak them. Only a growl leaves my throat.
«Designation unavailable. Former identity: human. Current classification: anomaly. Direct interference authorized.»
A surge of information slams into me—instincts, commands, hunger. The world expands in impossible detail. I smell life miles away. I hear the crawl of maggots under bark. Every heartbeat in the forest is a rhythm I can sense.
And buried beneath it all… a pulse. Ancient. Watching.
She—I—begin to move. Staggering, panting, half-crawling through the undergrowth. Each step makes my muscles scream. The instincts whisper:
Hunt. Feed. Survive.
But another voice, quieter, clings to the back of my mind.
Don't lose yourself.
That's my voice. The last human piece of me refusing to fade.
I reach a stream and collapse beside it. My reflection stares back—wolf's eyes, bright like molten gold. My fur is streaked with ash gray and shadow. My teeth are long enough to kill.
And yet, behind those eyes, I see him. The man I used to be. The one who still wants to believe there's something human left.
«Vital stabilization complete.»
«New trait acquired: Adaptation Instinct.»
«Trait effect: Survival-driven instinct efficiency +25%.»
I laugh—or the wolf's version of it, a rasping breath that fogs the air. Survival instinct. Of course.
But survival for what? For who?
Night deepens. The forest comes alive with movement—screams, howls, wet tearing sounds. My ears twitch toward every noise. The hunger gnaws at me, twisting in my gut until it hurts.
I smell blood. Fresh.
It's not human. That helps. A little.
I follow the scent.
The world narrows into scent trails and muscle tension. The human mind is screaming at the back of my skull, but the wolf's hunger drowns it. My paws move silently through the brush until I find it: a half-eaten carcass, still warm. Something bigger had started on it but left.
I approach, trembling. The air reeks of predator scent—dominant, heavy, like smoke and sulfur.
It's not mine.
The thought is absurd, but it's true. This kill belongs to someone stronger.
My human mind whispers, Walk away.
My wolf body crouches lower and bares its teeth.
«Predator field detected.»
«Warning: Proximity to higher entity (Rank: Alpha Predator). Instinct suppression may fail.»
And I realize the truth: this world doesn't care about survival. It cares about hierarchy.
The ground trembles.
A shape steps out of the dark—towering, monstrous, fur like black steel, eyes burning with violet light. The Alpha.
Its gaze pins me in place. My body locks, muscles rigid. My mind shrinks back into a corner, but my instincts scream submission. My tail lowers. My ears flatten.
«Dominance field active.»
«Entity: Apex Dire Wolf (Alpha-tier)»
«Power ratio differential: 1:104»
«Survival chance: negligible.»
The Alpha sniffs the air, growls once, and steps closer. Each breath from it shakes the ground. Then it does something unexpected—it doesn't attack.
It simply watches.
A moment passes between us, sharp as a blade. I can't breathe. Can't think. Then the System whispers:
«Instinct Override available. Cost: Memory cohesion.»
«Activate Override?»
No.
Yes.
Please… I don't want to die again.
The words flicker in my mind like dying embers. I choose before I can think.
«Override accepted.»
The hunger hits like a storm.
For a heartbeat, I lose myself.
I'm on the Alpha, teeth sinking into its shoulder, claws raking through fur like armor. Blood fills my mouth—hot, divine. My mind blanks into fury, instinct, chaos.
The Alpha's roar splits the night. It throws me aside like a toy. Bones snap. The world spins.
I should be dead again.
But I'm not.
«Skill unlocked: Instinct Surge (Tier 0).»
«Condition: Near-fatal state.»
«Effect: Neural overclocking. Pain ignored. Duration: 5 seconds.»
The pain vanishes. Everything slows. I move again, reckless and burning. This isn't courage—it's madness.
I leap once more.
Somewhere, buried under the beast's roar, the last part of me whispers: I'm sorry.
The fight is over in seconds. I don't remember winning—only crawling, shaking, covered in blood that isn't mine. The Alpha limps away, bleeding but alive. It could have killed me. It chose not to.
«Dominance trial concluded.»
«Result: Survivor acknowledged.»
«Status updated: Marked by the Alpha.»
And then silence.
I collapse beside the carcass, exhausted. The stars above me burn too bright, as if the sky itself watches. My body shivers between instincts: eat, rest, hide.
My human mind, fragile and small, whispers again.
Don't forget who you are.
But the System hums louder.
«Synchronization: 73%.»
«Warning: Cognitive erosion increasing.»
I stare at my reflection again. The golden eyes in the water stare back. For the first time, I can't tell if they look human anymore.
And somewhere deep in the forest, the Alpha howls—long and low, as if calling the world to witness what it has claimed.