Alfred jolted upright, trying to force his eyelids open. However, it felt like grains of sand were pulling them shut.
While squinting, he turned his head and realized that he was in a small room lit by a single candle. The room was furnished with only a bed and a round table with a chair tucked underneath. A sliver of light shone along the dark wooden floor from under the closed door.
'What the fuck? Where am I?'
Alfred spun around and his horrified gaze fell upon the lifeless body of a morbidly obese, bald man whose throat had been viciously slit. The air still held the iron tang of blood, and Alfred's legs gave out beneath him as he stumbled back in disbelief.
The boy's face became motionless as confusion appeared in his eyes, he realized something was off—his gaze wasn't as high as it should be. He looked down to investigate and saw a set of short, thin legs that were almost childlike in size.
'What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming or am I dead?'
[Downloading blood memories: 0%]
A message popped up in front of Alfred's eyes, written in some unknown text that he could strangely understand. The language was foreign yet familiar.
[Download: 3%…]
[Download: 8%…]
The download increased at a rate of 3% every second. He felt his face muscles tense and the edges of his eyebrows draw together as they creased into a frown. His lip twitched slightly, betraying his uncertainty.
"What on earth is all this shit?!"
That time he spoke aloud and noticed he sounded like a pre-pubescent boy. Whatever language he spoke was not German; his mother tongue.
[Download complete.]
"Arghh!"
Alfred experienced a sudden jolt within his subconscious as if he had just tapped into the depths of his being. In an out-of-body encounter, he reached out for a passing epiphany.
"Is this the essence of my soul?" he wondered.
He stood at the edge of discovering something remarkable, igniting the scientist within him with sheer excitement.
A flood of information filled Alfred's mind as foreign memories flashed before his eyes. The pain subsided gradually, and he slowly realized his situation. His mouth dropped wide open, utterly dumbfounded.
The boy grappled with existential questions: Was his past merely a dream or illusion? How could he discern reality from a dream in his current experiences?
Struggling to reconcile these conflicting memories, Alfred sought to understand his true identity amidst uncertainty, his gaze shifting anxiously as he revisited the memories etched within him.
The memories of his new body carried profound sorrow, a narrative that resonated with only a handful. The boy was an orphan or simply forsaken, Alfred couldn't ascertain the truth with certainty. His earliest recollection dates back to around age four, foraging for sustenance alongside stray dogs in the vicinity.
Throughout his existence, he dwelled amidst poverty, devoid of affection or aid. Love remained a foreign concept, his companionship mainly sought from stray creatures, seeking solace in their company, even amidst the discomfort of flea-infested nights.
Alfred recalled his time with a group of four dogs, himself included. The young boy truly identified with being a dog, experiencing a wave of sorrow as these memories flooded back.
It had been ages since Alfred had felt any human emotions, making his newfound compassion a surprise. He reminisced about playing with the dogs and their favored locations for scavenging food. Together, they fiercely defended their territory at the intersection of two alleyways, acting as a cohesive pack.
The boy lived a savage but simple life, Alfred was enlightened when he felt the child's emotions of happiness.
'How could he be happy? He had nothing, he didn't even regard himself as human.'
Any normal child would have died. However, this boy strangely had a strong body for an infant, more durable than most adults. He would stay without food for extended periods and heal quite rapidly from injuries that weren't too severe.
Alfred wondered why no one helped, then he remembered his past life. Would he have helped?
It wasn't that the people in the slums lacked empathy, but everyone was fighting to survive. With little enough for themselves, there wasn't much kindness to spare another person, especially when food was so scarce.
The land behind the settlements was dotted with mass graves, each marking the bodies of those who had perished during the harsh winter. As more and more relatives were buried in the soil, the villagers' hearts grew heavier and colder.
Alfred quivered with rage as he recalled the events that led him to this unknown hut. His fists clenched, his brows furrowed under a tapestry of shadows, and his teeth gritted as he gnawed on his bottom lip like a rabid animal.
Not long before, the portly deceased man had offered some stale bread to the young lad and gestured for the boy to follow him. The boy didn't comprehend what had been said, but he decided to accept his kind gesture as the dead man had offered sustenance.
When he remembered the perverted look on the fat man's face, Alfred was infuriated, how could the kid be so gullible? Evidently, this man was a sick individual who couldn't hide his intentions.
Fortunately for the boy, some men followed him to the house. they saw that the fat man had been offering him bread in an attempt to manipulate and seduce him.
The moment the man stepped foot inside his home, he did not even give the child a chance to ask for more food. He sprinted to his tiny bed and plopped down, hastily unbuckling his belt and slipping off his trousers.
Alfred raged with fury, his whole body shaking uncontrollably as the memory came flooding back. He felt weak and helpless, and this feeling burned inside him like an unquenchable fire.
That's when the bandits charged in, screaming wildly and brandishing their weapons. The man stood tall, unfazed by the mob of men surrounding him. He swung his fists powerfully, but he was outnumbered and eventually knocked to the ground.
The bandits surrounded him, rough hands pushing him down onto the ground. He screamed in panic as one of them pulled a knife from their belt, the blade glinting in the moonlight. His cries were silenced abruptly as the blade slashed across his throat. As he lay dying, the four bandits moved in unison, searching every nook and cranny for food or anything else they could find.
The boy was given a pass, or maybe just forgotten since he hadn't done anything to prevent the situation. Apparently, a single meal was equivalent to someone's life in this realm.
Alfred felt deeply connected to the new body he inhabited, so he was livid whilst facing the fat man. He walked menacingly towards the corpse and began pummeling the half-severed neck with his foot.
*Stomp stomp stomp*
Blood splashed back on his face and body.
[Energy Source Detected]
The weird notification was back again this time with a different message.
"What the Fuck is this crap, am I hallucinating?"
More out-of-character vulgarities came out of Alfred's mouth.
[Low Energy Detected.]
[Beginning Energy Transfer.]
FWOOSH!
All the blood on the floor and whatever was left inside the man rushed into Alfred's mouth in less than a minute.
"Yuck!"
*Cough cough*
He tried to vomit but was unable to, all he could do was gag as he bent over and spat at the ground. However, instead of a foul taste, Alfred noticed a sweet taste in his mouth and a warm feeling in his stomach.
'Why did I just enjoy that?'
Alfred had lived a life far less than angelic, however there were limits. He may have done some terrible things, but he considered consuming human flesh and drinking blood alien and barbaric. Torture was where he drew his line!
[Downloading blood memories: 2%]
[Downloading blood memories: 14%]
[Downloading blood memories: 22%]
Multiple notifications had popped up in front of Alfred's eyes. At this point, he was fully aware of what was going on. He just didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. He acquired the ability to use Blood as an energy source and extract memories embedded within the DNA.
Huber Industries invested in many businesses, including many gaming companies that produced games Alfred used to play in his early twenties. It was as if he had been transported to an alternate reality where everything was like one of those games. The whole situation seemed surreal to him.
[Download complete.]
"Arghh!"
Alfred felt a sharp pain in his mind.
'This better not happen every time. Wait. Why have I come to terms with this already?'
Another flood of memories flashed before his eyes. However, it didn't last as long, the transfer was faster this time; it was a year's worth of memories.
*BLERGH*
Alfred felt sick to his stomach as memories of the fat man's cruel deeds returned to him. It dawned on him that these awful recollections contained remnants of the victims' prior feelings, ideas, and behaviors.
He felt uncomfortable, 'what would happen if this was a continued theme? Would I have to continue draining people's blood?'
Alfred contemplated the latest recollections in his mind and discovered that the plump man's name was Henri Monet. Despite residing in comparable impoverished conditions, he earned a living shoveling excrement in the urban center. The waste management organization compensated him with food.
Most of his time was spent either shoveling feces or coercing little boys in the slums to come to his hut with him. It truly was a life full of shit, to call him a sick individual would be an understatement. The horrors of his existence were beyond comprehension.
Using threats of violence, he forced people in the slums to build his house in exchange for scraps of food. Eventually, his actions led to his downfall.
Alfred's eyes bulged as he processed the latest revelation, his teeth gnashing together as his jaw dropped open in disbelief. A chill crept up his spine and goosebumps rose on his skin as fear coursed through him like ice water.
"I'm a vampire!"