6. A Hunger Unlike Any Other

The hunger came slowly at first.

A dull ache in his stomach. A slight dryness in his throat.

Ethan thought it was just normal hunger. Maybe his body was adjusting. Maybe he just needed food—real food.

But then it grew.

The dull ache sharpened into something wrong. Something primal.

It wasn't hunger for food. It wasn't thirst for water.

It was something deeper. Darker.

It clawed at his insides, twisting, tightening, screaming for something he didn't understand.

His hands trembled. His breath came faster. His throat felt like it was burning.

And then—

The scent hit him.

Warm. Thick. Rich.

Blood.

Ethan gasped, stumbling back against the cold steel of the morgue cabinets. His body stiffened as his senses latched onto the scent, as if every part of him was suddenly awake.

His heart pounded against his ribs. His muscles tensed.

No.

No, this wasn't right.

He didn't want this.

"User is entering Blood Starvation."

The voice in his head was calm. Cold. Unbothered.

"Hunger will intensify until blood is consumed."

Ethan clutched his throat, his breathing ragged. The burning was worse now. It spread through his chest, down his limbs, curling deep into his stomach like a beast with razor-sharp claws.

And then—

His body moved.

Not by his choice.

Not by his will.

His feet stepped forward, slow and unsteady, like a puppet being pulled by invisible strings. His fingers twitched. His muscles tensed.

He couldn't stop himself.

A low whimper escaped his lips as his legs carried him to the morgue door. His mind screamed at him to stop, to fight, to resist.

But the hunger was stronger.

It pushed him forward.

He slipped through the dark hallway, his bare feet silent against the cold tile floor. The scent of blood was pulling him, calling him.

And then he saw it.

A small, frail creature curled in the corner of the dimly lit hallway. A stray cat.

It was injured. A deep gash on its side, fresh blood trickling down its fur.

The scent hit Ethan like a storm.

His vision blurred. His pulse roared in his ears. His fingers twitched with a need he didn't understand.

"Target acquired."

No.

No, no, no.

His breathing came in rapid gasps as he fought to step back, to turn away, to look at anything else.

But his body refused.

His hands moved on their own. His legs took another step.

The cat lifted its head weakly, its golden eyes dull with exhaustion. It tried to move, but its legs gave out.

It was helpless.

Just like he had been.

A sharp sob tore from Ethan's throat. His hands trembled violently. He didn't want this.

"User must consume blood to survive."

The voice was emotionless. Uncaring.

"Resisting will result in system override."

A fresh wave of hunger crashed into him, sharp and unforgiving.

His knees buckled. His vision darkened at the edges.

So thirsty. So hungry. So empty.

His body ached for it.

His fingers twitched, his fangs lengthened, his mouth parted—

No.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his body to stay still. His chest heaved, his breath shaky and desperate.

He wouldn't do this.

He wouldn't.

His nails dug into his arms as he fought against the overwhelming need, as his body begged him to just give in.

"Override activated."

A sharp jolt shot through his skull.

Ethan screamed.

His limbs locked, his spine arched, his muscles convulsed.

The hunger swallowed him whole.

His body lunged.

Fangs sank deep into flesh.

Hot, thick liquid rushed into his mouth.

Warm. Sweet. Perfect.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat—something between a moan and a growl. His hands gripped soft fur, his body shuddering as the fire in his veins cooled, as the hunger inside him melted into something blissful.

It was intoxicating.

It was terrifying.

His mind was screaming. He could hear it—faint, distant, drowning under the flood of sensation.

But his body didn't care.

It drank.

And drank.

And drank.

The cat's heartbeat slowed. Its weak struggles stopped.

Ethan gasped, shoving himself away, his back hitting the cold wall. His chest heaved, his hands shaking violently.

His lips—

They were stained with blood.

His throat—

The burning was gone.

The hunger—

Silent.

The cat lay still.

Lifeless.

His breath caught. His stomach lurched.

He killed it.

A sharp sob tore from his throat as he curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees, his hands gripping his hair.

He had just—

He had—

He pressed his forehead against his knees, his body trembling.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his lips.

This wasn't him.

This wasn't who he was.

He wasn't a monster.

But the proof was right there.

The lifeless body.

The blood on his hands.

The voice in his head.

"Feeding successful."

"Vital signs restored."

"User has completed the first stage of transformation."

"Congratulations."

Ethan let out a choked laugh—sharp, broken, empty.

Congratulations.

Like he had won something.

Like this was a game.

Like he wasn't sitting here, drenched in blood, shaking from what he had just done.

His fingers curled against the cold floor. His eyes stung with unshed tears.

He had died.

He had been reborn.

And now, he wasn't human anymore.

A monster.

A predator.

A vampire.

His gaze lifted, dark and hollow, as the truth settled in his chest like a cold weight.

There was no turning back.

This was who he was now.

And the hunger…

It would come again.