Chris, now Jerath, sat quietly as the memories poured into him. They did not feel like images or stories. They felt lived. Heavy. Like a past he had somehow experienced.
And the first memory was of a world called Aerthos.
The Fall of Aerthos
Aerthos had once been peaceful. It was similar to Earth, but older and filled with ancient power. Its people lived their lives without knowing a disaster was drawing near.
For generations, the world stayed balanced.
Kingdoms grew.
Magic moved softly in the background.
The skies remained untouched.
Until the day they cracked.
The Arrival of the Dark Entities
It started with a thin line across the sky. At first it looked harmless, like a small flaw in glass. Then it widened and tore the heavens open. From that rupture came the beings the old scriptures had warned about.
The Dreadborn Legion.
Those who survived their first appearance whispered their names with trembling voices:
Mal'Tharak the Devourer
Sael'Ruun the Whispering Rot
Oskriath the Pale Maw
Vyr'Kanis the Blood Herald
They were not gods or demons.
They were hunger given shape.
Their arrival twisted humanity. Bloodlines changed:
Some became vampires, cold and predatory.
Some became werewolves bound to the moon's pull.
Some awakened forbidden magic.
Many remained human and painfully vulnerable.
Aerthos slowly turned into a world at war with its own transformation.
Hallowstead (Jerath's Home)
Far from the chaos was Hallowstead, a small farming village that still held on to peace. Life here was simple and quiet. The people tried to believe that the horrors outside would never reach them.
Jerath grew up surrounded by warmth.
A gentle mother.
A hardworking father with calm hands.
A little sister who adored him.
Neighbors who treated him like their own.
There were stories of vampires and werewolves, but Jerath thought they were only tales meant to scare children.
He did not know that nightmares did not need belief to exist.
The Night the Darkness Arrived
The first scream split the silence of the night.
Jerath woke to the smell of smoke and the sound of crackling flames. Before he could understand what was happening, another scream echoed through the village. This time it was followed by a wet, tearing sound.
His father shouted from outside, his voice full of fear.
"Jerath! Stay inside!"
But it was already too late.
Jerath stepped outside and froze.
His home was being destroyed.
Houses burned like dry leaves.
Bodies lay scattered on the ground.
Shadows moved between the flames with an inhuman speed.
At the center of the destruction stood a creature that did not belong to this world.
Sael'Ruun the Whispering Rot.
Its form shifted between smoke and flesh. Its voice sounded like many dying breaths layered together. Grass died under its steps. Each whisper it released carried pain.
Hallowstead was not under attack.
It was being erased.
Jerath could not move as he watched people he had known all his life being torn apart.
Then instinct took over and he ran.
Through thick smoke.
Across broken fences.
Past bodies he tried not to recognize.
But the whispers followed him.
Closer.
Colder.
Hungrier.
He had just crossed the last burning home when a shadow struck with deadly speed.
Something pierced into his stomach.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unnatural.
He gasped as blood filled his mouth. His legs gave out. His vision blurred. The burning remains of his village faded before him.
His final thought was of his little sister. The one he could not save.
Then everything went dark.
Jerath died.
That was the reason I was here in the first place. This grief pressing on my chest. This pain that did not feel like memory but like something I had lived through myself. Yet the real problem was simple. I had no power. I was just a human, weak and ordinary, in a world filled with monsters.
How was I supposed to fight something like Sael'Ruun?
How was I supposed to avenge what happened?
How could I even survive?
I could feel the pain of my former body, the fear, the helplessness. It clung to me, refusing to fade. I needed strength, but I had none. I could not turn into a beast. I was not a vampire. I had no magic. I was powerless in this world too. Here, only the strong mattered, and the weak were nothing.
I was trapped in the village, listening to stories about vampires and strange beings. And now I knew they were all true. But none of those powers existed in me.
As he continued to lament his fate, a sound suddenly echoed in his mind.
Ding.
A calm voice followed.
[Welcome, Host.
Vampiric Evolution System activated.]
Who was that? Where was the voice coming from? Was I hallucinating on top of everything else? Was this life really so cruel? I escaped suffering in one world only to wake up weak in another. What kind of fate was this?
"Who is talking? Where are you? Are you a human or a ghost?" he whispered.
Ding.
[Only you can hear me, Host. I am bound to you. If you perish, I perish as well.]
"Are you the one who brought me here?"
Ding.
[Yes. You died in your former body. You met the requirements to transmigrate.]
"Why me? Why am I the perfect vessel?"
Ding.
[Because life has been most unfair to you.]
"So you brought me here to continue the suffering?"
Ding.
[No. You are here to start again. With me.]
"But this start looks terrible to me."
The system went silent.
"Why are you not answering?" Jerath muttered.
No response.
He sighed. "Fine. I accept my fate. At least tell me this. How do you look?"
Ding.
[Call the word System. A hologram will appear before you.]
Jerath hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly.
"System."
A hologram flickered into existence in front of him, glowing faintly as the interface unfolded.