Chương 9: (9) B1 C9: What have I become?

My mind was fuzzy, my thoughts in disarray as I struggled to keep my balance. The brief sense of satisfaction from my first feast quickly disappeared, but it was soon replaced by a gnawing pit of hunger that manifested itself deep within my stomach. My body ached, my muscles growing weak as a fierce heat clawed at my throat. I needed more. I growled, my fangs barred, as the pit in my stomach grew too painful to ignore.

With every second I spent without the blood I needed, the ache in my muscles spread further throughout my body. I looked back upon the bloodless corpse below me, my gaze drifting to the wound cutting through its neck. This corpse was dry. There was no blood to be found here, so I looked elsewhere, my eyes searching for more prey. Just next to him were other slaves, each of them also killed by a single bullet to the chest.

Some were larger than others—juicier and more meaty—while others were thinner and less tempting. A snarl escaped from within me as I leapt forward, my claws pouncing on the slave corpse closest to me. My hands gripped around the slave's shoulders, my claws piercing into her skin like an eagle clutching onto its prey, as my fangs sunk deep into her neck. I heard a whisper at the back of my mind. It was encouraging me—pushing me to feed, so I obliged.

As the slave corpse's blood flowed between my fangs, I couldn't help but moan in delight. The taste once again spread through my body, itching that part of my mind that was impossible to reach otherwise. But it still wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed— I heard a cough ahead of me. I looked up, my eyes glaring into the darkness to find the source of the noise.

The pit of hunger in my stomach rippled throughout my body, unsatisfied with how I'd stopped feasted so suddenly, and a low growl echoed from my throat as I gazed into the darkness. I still held my prey in my hands, her blood coating my entire upper body, especially the area around my lips and mouth, in her scarlet sustenance. As I searched the darkness, I quickly activated Crimson Instinct. As the skill took hold around my eyes, the vibrant colors around me began to fade away.

The orange hue of the surrounding inferno vanished, replaced by a grey light that enveloped the area in a sense of calm that felt more eerie than relaxing. The slaves below me—save for the two I'd feasted on and a third in front of me—glowed with a dull red light. Their veins were still, like frozen blocks of ice, yet their bodies still carried a sense of warmth that was only kept alive by the surrounding wildfire. In front of me, however, was an exception.

Among the pile of corpses around me, only this one had veins as bright as firelight. Their arteries were pumping with a stubborn refusal to die, as examined clearly by the speed of their heartrate. A survivor? I stood up, my prey forgotten upon the ground, as I stepped closer to the slave glowing in front of me. Once I was close, I crouched down, my knee only inches away from their face, as I gazed deeper into the arteries stretched out before me. The survivor was tough.

Their heart was pumping blood through their body much faster than I'd expected it to, all in an effort to keep them alive, but their body was beginning to fail. After turning to look at the gunshot wound, I realized that the survivor must've only survived the initial impact because the bullet had missed their most vital organs. The only real part of their body that had taken the damage were the muscles in the side of her abdomen and the edges of her digestive tract.

The smell hit my nose and carried with it a hint of the taste awaiting me. They were healthy, all things considered, but not for much longer. With the amount of crimson spreading around me, I could tell the slave wouldn't have much time left. Unless something was done, they'd be dead soon. I wondered how they'd taste if I drank from them before they took their final breath. Would their blood taste differently if they were still alive when I drank it?

Would it be full of vitality—more so than servings I was used to—or would there be another taste that I hadn't experienced yet? I felt a wetness at the base of my mouth as the thought made itself known. I couldn't wait any longer. I opened my mouth, my fangs on full display, as I inched closer to my prey. Then, before my fangs found purchase in the slave's neck, I felt my energy reserves finally plummet to nothing. Crimson Instinct lifted from my vision, revealing the survivor's face before I moved too close.

"Oh my god," I muttered as I backed away in shock. All thoughts of hunger quickly vanished from my mind as my eyes fell upon the girl before me. As I looked upon her blonde hair, her thick eyebrows, and soft facial bones, I realized with horror that she was only a child. I wasn't even sure if she was a teenager, as her face was too soft and young to be anything older. Her face was twisted into an expression of pain, though I found a hint of determination there, as well.

Even as young as she was, the girl was fighting to stay alive.

"She's still a kid," I mumbled. How was a girl like this in slavery? I turned to look back around me, toward the other slaves. Were the others slaves children, as well? To my horrified relief, however, I found that many of them were young, yet each still an adult in their own right. The survivor, and only the survivor, was still a child.

"What the actual fuck," I turned to look at the slavers spread throughout the surrounding carnage. Among those not burnt to ash, I found all of them to be at least thirty years old. Some had gone grey, while others were showing the first signs of age on their wrinkled faces. Each of them were adults—each knew exactly what it meant to enslave a child. Stolen novel; please report. These people were pure evil. As the thought wormed its way into my mind, I froze.

With a slow turn back to the other slaves, my gaze fell back upon the two slaves behind me. My teeth marks were apparent on both, though not in the way popular Vampire media depicted teeth marks. There was no slight scar or a mouth-shaped imprint. No, I had ripped them apart. Their necks were open for the world to see, blood and bone obvious even from a distance. I felt something within my stomach bubble at the sight. Horror and disgust spread throughout me as a surge of vomit shot out from my throat.

I fell forward, my arms falling upon the dirt with a furious thud as I coated the ground below me in a dark red substance. As I painted the dirt below me with my insides, a thought came to mind. If these people were evil enough to enslave others, what did that make me? If I had left them in that sort of state, was I no better than an animal? Was I nothing more than something wild to be caged? If so, did that make me a danger to everybody I'll ever know? Oh, god, what have I become?

I felt tears streaming from my eyes, even as the last remnants of bile shot out from my stomach. I slowly pushed myself back up, my arms shaking with weakness as I turned my attention back to the fires around me. I shouldn't exist. I was an unnatural danger to everybody around me. Then, upon looking at the corpses, an idea sprung to life within me. Yes, that was it. I was among the corpses, as I belonged, and for a moment I was tempted to stay there. Until morning, if needed.

If I died here, nobody else would suffer because of my continued existence. I'd be free and the world would be safe. The pit of hunger within me protested, of course, but I squashed it down to where it belonged. I knew that if the sun rose above the horizon soon, I wouldn't have to worry about harming anybody else. Not ever again, and I was okay with that. I let out a soft breath as the acceptance of my fate settled within my mind.

Then, as the fires around me continued to spread further inward, I heard a noise behind me. I turned my head to the ruins of the large building, only to watch a shadowy figure slowly escape from the wreckage. Another survivor? It doesn't matter. If they survive, they survive. It has nothing to do with me. I kept my eyes on them, just for curiosity's sake, as I waited for my death. The shadowy figure stepped forward and slowly limped into the light.

She was wearing leather clothes, similar to the slavers around me, and carried a crossbow in one of her hands. The other had been ripped apart at the elbow, revealing a slow stream of scarlet that dripped onto the ground below. The slaver's blonde hair was draped across her shoulders, save for the patch of black where she'd been burned at the scalp.

Half of her face was covered in burns, but the other half was staring at me with a rageful sort of scorn that could've easily been replaced by the face of a charging bull. She lifted her crossbow, her teeth bared in wrath.

"You! Are you one of them?" She yelled, her crossbow beginning to shake in her hand. As she shouted at me, a part of my brain responded with rapid recognition. Something about her voice was familiar, and after staring at her for another moment, I finally understood why. It was hard to recognize her because of her many injuries, but I could see that she was one of the slavers I'd met on my first day here. She was with two others, another human and a golem, as well as a group of three slaves. What was her name again?

Abby? No, maybe Annie? Ah, who cares.

"You are, aren't you? You're with the elves!" The woman shouted. I sighed and slowly shook my head, though the woman continued to ignore me as she swung her crossbow around with agitated frustration. She looked at me, then drifted her attention to the surviving slave at my side, "Why? Why did you do this? To protect that one?" She turned her crossbow to the young girl before me. As she did so, I brought my gaze to the surviving slave, my eyes falling upon her struggling form with worry. She wouldn't, right?

I turned back to the slaver woman, my eyes glaring at the crossbow in her hands. It was a two handed crossbow, as far as I could see, but it was already loaded and aimed directly at the survivor. The slaver woman may have struggled to hold it with her remaining hand, but she only needed the one to press the trigger.

"Calm down," I reasoned, "Think this through logically."

"Shut up!" The woman shouted back at me, "What gives you the right? We did business legally! We weren't breaking any laws or hiding from any sort of authority! You had no right to attack us!"

"... Okay, I got you," I replied as I attempted to hide the shock in my voice. These guys were legal? What sort of country legalized fucking slavery while I was away? I looked back at the slaver, my panicked thoughts quickly put to the back of my mind, as I slowly held up my hands. I wasn't sure why this lady thought I was an elf.

I wasn't wearing their uniform—or anything, for that matter—so was she just assuming my allegiance because she didn't recognize me, or was she just angry at me for the sake of being angry? Actually, why was she not responding to the fact that I was wearing my birthday suit? Was that not an unusual thing nowadays? Regardless, this woman was clearly delusional, injured, and unwilling to reason with me.

I doubted that she'd listen if I tried to explain who I actually was, especially while I was held at the fantasy equivalent of gunpoint. I'd have to play along with her.

"I'm sorry, alright. I didn't know," I lied. Did elves have an accent? Elven players were usually American—a nationality that I luckily shared—but maybe the player nationalities I was used to didn't have that effect anymore? The slaver woman sounded American to me, so maybe I was wrong? Shit. I hoped my natural accent was close enough to what she was expecting, "I'm sorry."

"Damn you," the woman told me. Her voice was quivering, though significantly less than the crossbow in her hand, "Damn you! If it wasn't for you, he'd still be alive!"

"Who?" The woman lifted her crossbow, tears dripping from the unburnt half of her face.

"I lost Danny because of you. Do you know what it feels like to lose someone like that?"

"Uh…"

"No? That doesn't surprise me, bastard. You… you should know. I guess I'll just show you!" The woman scowled. She lifted her crossbow once more, furious determination painted across her face, as she aimed the weapon at the little girl struggling to breath. I shouted in alarm, my eyes widened in fear, as the sound of a crossbow bolt being fired echoed through the air.