Not a single ray of light pierced the rocky walls.
The silence was not merely the absence of sound. It was a crushing force. Something alive. As if the cave breathed in a slow, oppressive rhythm, absorbing every breath, every thought, every foreign heartbeat. There, in the depths, time seemed to have stopped. Nothing moved. Nothing was born. Nothing died.
There was only a body lying on the cold stone. Motionless. Fragile. Hidden in a crevice so perfectly concealed that not even the most persistent of explorers would have found it by accident.
The body of a child.
No older than fourteen. Perhaps younger.
His skin was pale as wax, covered in grime, dust, and dried wounds. He was so thin he looked sculpted out of bones. His hair, black as spilled ink, fell in wild locks over a thin, angular face—impossible to recognize at a glance.
And then, without warning, he opened his eyes.
Red.
Not a human red.
A violent, unnatural red. They burned like lit coals, glowing with an impossible intensity. At first, they were glassy, inert, as if they perceived nothing. But within seconds, they sharpened, and a flicker of lucidity—or madness—sparked within them.
The boy—Kael Draven, though he didn't know why he remembered that name—brought a trembling hand to his throat.
He coughed. A dry, desperate cough that scratched from deep within his chest. Breathing was hard. As if his lungs had forgotten how to function. As if the air itself rejected him.
He tried to scream. But nothing came out—just a gasp, torn by pain.
"Where… what…?"
'Where am I?'
'Am I dreaming?'
He didn't remember how he had gotten there. Or why. He didn't remember his home, his family, or even the strange sound of a familiar voice. Only one name—his—and a swirl of blurry images. Of a city that didn't exist, of an endless tower, of nightmare monsters, and of gods walking among mortals.
Orario. The place of heroes.
'Wait… why is that all I remember?'
'Why did I wake up in this place? Why do I feel like I'm not real?'
He sat up with difficulty, trembling from head to toe. His muscles didn't respond properly. His body ached as if it had been crushed, or as if it had lain unmoving for days, weeks. Every breath was torment.
And yet, he could see.
See with impossible clarity.
There was no light, but the outlines were sharp. The rocks, the dust, the moisture. Everything shimmered strangely, as if his eyes could pierce the very darkness. As if the cave was whispering its secrets to him.
And beyond that… there was hunger.
Thirst.
Not for water. No. A worse thirst. Something deeper. A need he didn't understand.
His throat burned with a sharp fire that made no sense. His stomach was empty, yes—but what gnawed at him wasn't physical hunger. It was something else. Something more primal. More foul.
'What… what's happening to me?'
He crawled through the cave, hands and bare feet pressing against the cold rock. Each movement made him nauseous. But staying there… felt the same as dying in his current state.
He stopped by a crack—apparently the exit from that dark place. He felt a different kind of air. Warm. Strange.
He stepped out.
And it was like being born again.
A wave of light struck him head-on. Not sunlight. Something more unsettling. Magical. Around him spread a vast underground gallery. Crystals of many colors adorned the walls. Paths branched in every direction, like the arteries of a sleeping beast. The ceiling… wasn't a ceiling. It was sky. Or seemed like it. False stars twinkled over the blackness, mocking all logic.
Kael staggered forward, shielding his eyes.
'This… I've seen this before.'
But it wasn't true. He had never seen it.
Or had he?
Everything was confusing. As if his mind had been struck and rearranged by foreign hands. He only knew that this place mattered. That he was in the Dungeon. That he was on the fifth floor. He didn't know how he knew. It was more instinct than thought. But he also realized something else. That this instinct wasn't normal. That he… wasn't normal.
The pang of hunger returned—violently.
A fire in his chest. In his throat. In his soul.
"Agh…!"
But a sound stopped him before he could scream. Something low. A faint growl. Then heavy steps, like flesh pounding against stone.
Something was coming.
Kael didn't think. He ran. In the opposite direction of those horrible sounds.
He didn't know where. Only that he had to flee. That the danger was real and coming. That the darkness was following him. His bare feet slammed the ground in desperation. His lungs screamed. His legs trembled.
Until he crashed.
A wall. A body. Something solid.
He fell back, dazed.
And then he saw it.
His face filled with pure horror.
A goblin. Green, small, cruel. Red eyes, empty, soulless. Twisted grin. Barely clothed in rags, and wielding a rusty knife that gleamed with murderous intent.
Kael didn't move.
Fear paralyzed him.
He couldn't scream. Couldn't think.
The creature raised its knife—
—And brought it down.
The steel tore his clothing. Cut skin. Just a wound, but it was enough for something to awaken inside him.
A pulse. A tremor in his blood.
Kael screamed.
But not from pain.
From awareness.
His eyes flared. The red intensified. Everything slowed. He could hear it—the goblin's ragged breath. The erratic drum of its heart. The metallic scent of blood hanging in the air.
Hunger consumed him.
His hand shot up with impossible reflexes. He grabbed the goblin's wrist with inhuman strength.
The monster shrieked.
Kael shoved it to the ground with his other hand, pinning it by the chest. Something strange began to happen. It wasn't rage. It wasn't violence. It was something darker.
It was absorption.
Suddenly the creature paled. Its veins darkened. Its flesh withered.
And Kael… felt a kind of heat flow into him. He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't stop. He felt it—that thing starting to run inside him, through his blood, through his soul. It was vital. Necessary. Instinctive.
When it was over, the goblin was dead—its thin, wasted body suddenly crumbling to pieces. But it didn't drop a magic stone, something common in this world.
And Kael… no, the being called Kael—
Was stronger. More alert.
More awake. It wasn't a massive improvement, but it was enough.
He stood still, panting. He looked at his hands. They weren't stained. No blood. No claws. No fangs. Only one disgusting truth—
He had drained the life from a living creature.
And instead of feeling empty—
He felt full. Complete.
'What the hell…?'
'What… am I?'
'What have I become…?'
'No… first I need to get out of this place. Then I can worry about that.'
He staggered to his feet. Walked. His footsteps echoed with sounds that seemed to throw back questions. And answers he didn't want.
He wasn't alone. He knew it. He could feel it.
Presences. Lives. Monsters. Ahead. Below. As if his body, unknowingly, had triggered a switch and now everything around him felt alive. As if he could sense everything before it happened.
'…I'm not human.'
'I can't be…'
—But… he had been. Hadn't he?
He crossed a corridor. A flickering light appeared ahead. Warm. Bright. A fire.
He crept silently to the edge of a curve. Peered with his eyes.
Two adventurers. Young. Likely rookies. A pale elven girl, and a thin, sleepy human boy. Sitting beside a makeshift fire, talking in low voices. Their weapons rested beside them. They were tired. Vulnerable. Weak.
Kael froze.
The hunger returned.
Not like before. Now it was different. Stronger. More brutal.
But—mixed with fear.
But not fear of them.
Fear for them.
'I could kill them.'
'I could do it. Absorb them. End this… Hunger.'
His body wanted to move closer.
But his mind—shattered, fragmented, still clinging to something that might once have been his humanity—recoiled.
"No… no…"
He backed away. Merged into the darkness. Fled.
Not from the adventurers. From himself. From what he was becoming.
He ran.
Faster.
Farther.
Where no one could find him. Where he couldn't hurt anyone.
But the Dungeon watched him. It always did.
And something deep inside him was awakening.
An ancient echo. A whisper of power, of hunger, of thirst, and of a fate stained in blood.