CLACK.
The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.
"Don't move," came the voice behind Ethan—cold, commanding, but not cruel.
"I said don't turn around," the guard repeated, stepping closer, hand steady on the firearm. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in your room."
Ethan froze, body still, his fingers twitching near the blood bank's keypad.
The guard sighed, softer now. "Look, kid... just talk to me. You sick? Lost? This isn't the way."
He raised his radio. "I've got a patient out of bed. Send a nurse to Blood Storage—Wing B. Yeah, now."
The guard tilted his head. "What's your name?"
Ethan slowly turned his head—not fully—just enough for the edge of his face to catch the red light. His expression twisted into something close to fear. False fear.
"I… I don't remember," he said, voice trembling by design. "I was thirsty. I felt like I was dying."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I didn't mean to. I was just… lost."
But even as he lied, the burning inside him was getting worse—like his blood had turned to lava. He dropped to the ground with a cry, writhing in pain, gripping his stomach.
[System Alert: Threshold breached. New class assigned: Feralborn.]
[Subclass: Feralborn – A vampiric state triggered by starvation. Enhanced physicality, loss of inhibition, sensory overload. Survival instinct prioritized.]
Everything went silent.
The guard blinked, reaching for his radio again. "We've got a problem. I need that nurse here now. Patient is unresponsive—possible seizure."
He flicked on the overhead lights. A harsh white buzz flooded the corridor.
He crouched beside Ethan, two fingers checking his pulse. "Stay with me. You're gonna be alright."
That's when Ethan's eyes snapped open—all at once. Burning red. Starved. Predatory.
Ethan moved.
His arm shot up, grabbing the guard by the neck and hurling him across the hall. The man's body slammed into the light fixture with a CRASH, shattering the bulb. Sparks rained down.
When the guard groaned and looked up—
Ethan was gone.
The hallway felt tighter, darker. The air trembled with a low, guttural growl.
And it was getting louder.
The guard stumbled to his feet, clutching the side of his head where it hit the wall. "Hello?" he called into his radio, voice shaking. "He's gone. I've got movement—heavy breathing. I need backup now!"
He turned—and saw it.
A figure—tall, shadow-thin, crouched unnaturally. Fingers like claws. Nails too long to be human. Eyes glowing crimson in the flickering light.
Then came the scream.
Ethan pounced, slamming into the guard with monstrous force, teeth ripping into the man's throat. Blood sprayed across the tiles. The radio dropped with a wet clack, buzzing faintly as it hit the ground.
Footsteps pounded toward the hallway. More guards. A nurse.
Ethan, panting, growling, turned and grabbed the fallen man—then ripped the metal blood bank door off its hinges and threw it like scrap metal, disappearing into the room with a final CRASH.
Two guards skidded to a halt at the entrance.
"Down!" one shouted, raising his gun. But there was no one there.
Just the stench of blood, the broken bulb flickering on the ground, and a shattered window that opened into the night.
The nurse—a sharp-eyed woman in blue scrubs—rushed forward, kneeling beside the downed guard. She checked his pulse, her gloves slick with blood. Her voice stayed calm, professional.
"Laceration to the neck. He's alive, barely. Get a stretcher. And someone seal off this wing—now."
Somewhere on the hospital rooftop…
Ethan leaned against the concrete ledge, blood coating his chin. His breath came in heaves. His hands trembled.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered. "He was trying to help… and I couldn't stop…"
He sank to the floor, staring at his blood-stained palms.
[System Alert: Blood Type Consumed – O Negative. Speed increased.]
[Speed stat: 15 → 16]
Ethan leaned against the concrete ledge, blood coating his chin. His breath came in heaves. His hands trembled.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered. "He was trying to help… and I couldn't stop…"
He sank to the floor, staring at his blood-stained palms.
[System Alert: Blood Type Consumed – O Negative. Speed increased.]
[Speed stat: 15 → 16]
An hour later… back in his hospital bed…
The restraints were cold steel against Ethan's wrists.
The room was white, sterile. Two security guards stood at the door, silent.
A woman stepped inside. Sharp suit. Eyes colder than the guard's earlier warning. A nurse followed at her side, clipboard in hand.
CLACK—the sound of cuffs locking to the bedframe.
"I'm Detective Mara Ivers," the woman said. "You're under arrest, Ethan. We have eyewitnesses, multiple injuries, and destruction of hospital property."
Ethan blinked. "Wait… arrest? I—what did I do? I didn't mean—"
"You assaulted a hospital employee. You destroyed federal equipment. And you evaded monitoring protocols." Her voice was like ice. "Save the excuses. We've had enough of your generation thinking rules don't apply."
"But… I'm a patient. I didn't even know where I was. What now? Jail?"
"No. You'll remain here until you're cleared medically. Then you'll be escorted to holding. You'll be processed, and once deemed stable, arraigned in court."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat. "Court?"
"You'll have a chance to speak. To explain. Until then—don't try anything else."
She turned to the nurse. "Notify security detail to increase observation."
"Yes, Detective," the nurse nodded. "Vitals are stabilizing. He's metabolizing whatever it was quickly."
Detective Ivers gave Ethan one last look. "Whatever you are… I hope for your sake, you can control it."
She left without another word, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile.
Ethan stared at the ceiling, still breathing hard.
"…Feralborn," he whispered.
Emergency Room – Trauma Bay 2
The lights were harsh, cold, sterile. Monitors beeped in rapid succession, their green lines spiking wildly.
The guard—Officer Jalen Morris—lay on the gurney, shirt soaked in blood, bandages pressed tightly against his ravaged throat. He wasn't speaking—couldn't. His breaths came in short, desperate gasps, his entire body trembling like a live wire.
"BP dropping! 80 over 45!"
"Start another line—wide bore. We need to stabilize him."
Jalen shook violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, the muscles in his jaw twitching beneath blood-streaked skin. The wound on his neck had been packed, but blood still seeped through, thick and dark. His fingers clawed at the sheets like he was trying to escape from something no one else could see.