I push myself up from the cold floor, my body still aching from the last fight. The fusion I'd barely survived lies in pieces behind me, its blood staining the floor a deep, sickly red. Every part of me is screaming to stop, to rest, but I know that isn't an option. Not anymore.
I'm starting to understand now—what this place is, what I am. Each time I consume one of these creatures, I grow stronger. I feel it in my bones, in my muscles, in the way my wounds close just a little faster each time. The pain fades quicker. My body repairs itself, adapts.
But it's not enough.
I need to be stronger. If I'm going to survive in this place, I can't just wait to be attacked anymore. I have to go on the offensive side. I have to hunt.
I glance down at the mangled body of the fusion one last time, the faint traces of its flesh still clinging to my teeth. The power I took from it is still buzzing in my veins, but it's not as much as I'd hoped. I need more.
I need to find something else. Something I can *hunt*.
Moving through the lab has become more than just a quest for survival. Now, as I walk down these cold, metallic hallways, I feel the shift in my purpose. The walls are still the same—dripping with moisture, lit by the occasional flicker of faulty lighting. But my focus has changed. I'm no longer just trying to escape. I'm trying to *grow*.
I've come to understand that the more I consume, the more I can adapt. Every creature I tear apart, every bite of flesh I devour, makes me stronger. Not just physically, but mentally, too. My senses have sharpened. I'm faster, more alert. I'm learning.
I'm learning how to hunt.
Before, I was afraid. I'd run from the monsters, from the guards, from everything that threatened me. But now... now I see that they're not just obstacles. They're resources. They're food.
I keep moving, my footsteps silent on the slick floor, my ears straining for any sign of movement. The deeper I go into this labyrinth, the more I realize how many creatures are hiding here, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their next victim. But they won't get me. Not this time.
I'll get them first.
The first sign of life comes from a small alcove off the main hallway. I hear it before I see it—the faint sound of breathing, slow and shallow, like something trying to stay hidden. My senses are sharper now, more attuned to these subtle sounds. I pause, listening, my body tensing as I move closer.
It's a smaller creature, hunched over in the corner of the alcove. Its body is thin, emaciated, its skin pale and covered in sores. It's barely moving, its chest rising and falling with labored breaths. It's weak.
I don't hesitate.
I lunge at it, my hands wrapping around its throat before it even realizes I'm there. Its eyes snap open, wide with fear, but it's too late. I slam it to the ground, its frail body crumpling beneath my weight. My fingers dig into its flesh, tearing it apart, and I consume it, piece by piece.
The taste is bitter, foul, but the power... the power is there.
I can feel it. It's not much—this creature is weak, barely more than a shell of what it once was—but it's something. It's a start.
I wipe the blood from my mouth and stand, my muscles humming with the faint surge of energy. It's not enough. But it's a start. I need more.
I move on, my eyes scanning the dark corners of the hallway, searching for my next target. There are more of them. I can feel it. This place is crawling with creatures, all of them desperate to survive. Just like me.
But they won't.
The next creature I find is smarter.
It's hiding in one of the side rooms, its body pressed against the far wall, trying to blend into the shadows. It's larger than the last one, its muscles more defined, its eyes sharper. It watches me as I enter the room, its gaze following my every movement. It knows what's coming. It knows I'm hunting it.
But I'm not afraid.
I don't rush it this time. I've learned from the last fight. Rushing in blindly only gets me hurt. I need to be smarter. I need to use the environment to my advantage.
I glance around the room, my eyes scanning the broken machinery and debris scattered across the floor. There's a metal beam, half-buried under a pile of rubble, its surface slick with oil and grime. It's heavy, too heavy for me to lift outright, but I don't need to lift it.
I just need to use it.
I take a step toward the creature, and it tenses, its muscles coiling as it prepares to strike. But I don't go for it directly. Instead, I circle around, positioning myself between it and the metal beam.
The creature watches me, its body shifting with my movements, its eyes narrowing. It's waiting for me to make a mistake.
I don't give it the chance.
In one swift motion, I kick the beam, sending it crashing toward the creature. It's not fast enough to dodge. The beam slams into its legs, knocking it off balance, and I'm on it before it can recover.
My hands wrap around its throat, and I slam its head into the floor with all the strength I can muster. The creature lets out a choked snarl, but I don't let go. I keep slamming its head into the floor, over and over, until its body goes limp beneath me.
I tear into it, my teeth sinking into its flesh, and the power surges through me again. This one is stronger than the last. I can feel the energy flowing into my veins, my muscles strengthening, my mind sharpening. I consume it all, leaving nothing behind.
With every kill, I'm getting stronger. My body is healing faster, my movements more precise. The wounds I sustained earlier are nothing but faint scars now, the pain long gone. I'm faster. I can sense things before they happen—movements in the air, shifts in the environment. My instincts are sharper, more refined.
I've learned to use the environment around me. The rooms are filled with debris, broken machines, and tools that I can turn into weapons. I don't need to rely on my bare hands anymore. I can trap the creatures, lure them into confined spaces where they can't escape. I can outsmart them.
The next room I enter is larger, with more places to hide. The air is thick with the stench of oil and blood, and the walls are lined with more of those strange tanks, each one filled with murky fluid and the faint outline of a creature inside. But one of the tanks is broken, the glass shattered, the fluid spilled out across the floor.
Something else is here.
I hear it before I see it—the soft scrape of claws against metal, the slow, measured breathing of a predator. I tense, my body ready for the fight, my senses scanning the room.
It's there, hiding in the shadows, watching me.
I don't move. Not yet. I wait, my eyes narrowing as I scan the room, searching for anything I can use to my advantage. There's a broken pipe lying near one of the tanks, its surface slick with fluid. It's not much, but it's enough.
I take a step forward, and the creature strikes.
It's fast—faster than the others—but I'm ready. I dodge to the side, grabbing the pipe as I move, and swing it at the creature's head. The pipe connects with a sickening crack, and the creature stumbles, its movements disoriented.
I don't give it a chance to recover. I lunge at it, driving the pipe into its chest with all the strength I have. The creature lets out a snarl, its claws raking across my arm, but I don't stop. I slam the pipe into its chest again, feeling the bones crack beneath the force of the blow.
It collapses to the ground, twitching, its body convulsing in its final moments. I stand over it, my chest heaving, my body trembling with the effort of the fight. But I won. I always win.
I tear into the creature, devouring it, feeling the power flood my veins once more. Every bite makes me stronger. Every kill sharpens my senses, strengthens my body.
But it's not enough.
I move from room to room, hunting, killing, consuming. Each time, I'm smarter, faster. I set traps, using the environment to my advantage. I've learned how to lure the creatures into confined spaces, how to weaken them before they have a chance to strike.
The smaller creatures are easy now. They barely put up a fight. I've learned to break their bones with a single blow, to tear out their throats before they can even react.
The rhythm of it, the pattern—it's becoming second nature. I stalk them, corner them, break them down, and consume them. Over and over. Each kill brings a rush of power that courses through me like lightning. My mind is clearer now, more focused. The haze that once clouded my thoughts is gone. I'm becoming something else—something more than just a survivor.
I'm becoming the hunter.
I step into the next room, my senses sharp, every muscle in my body coiled and ready. The faint drip of water echoes from somewhere above, and the flickering lights cast shadows that dance across the walls. Another creature is here. I can smell it. My eyes scan the room, catching a glimpse of movement in the corner.
It's larger than the others—its body hunched, muscles rippling beneath its slick skin. It growls low in its throat, its eyes locked on mine. It's not afraid. It's waiting for me to make the first move.
But I've learned.
I don't charge in headfirst. Instead, I keep low, my gaze locked on the creature as I edge around the perimeter of the room, keeping to the shadows. It snarls, tracking my movements with a pair of unsettling, glassy eyes, its body crouched low, claws splayed out in preparation to strike.
I wait, biding my time, until I'm within reach of a loose, rusted pipe sticking out of the wall. In one swift motion, I rip it free, the sound of metal on metal ringing out. The creature tenses, muscles coiling, ready to pounce.
And that's when I strike.
With a burst of speed, I feint to the left, catching its attention. As it lunges, I drop to the ground and swing the pipe up in a wide arc. The jagged end catches it in the jaw, ripping across its face with a sickening crunch. The creature howls, its body twisting in pain, but I don't give it a chance to recover.
I drive the pipe into its abdomen, sinking it deep and twisting, tearing through flesh and muscle. The creature stumbles back, dazed, its claws scrabbling uselessly at the floor as it tries to pull itself free.
Not today.
I close the distance in an instant, grabbing hold of its arm and twisting it behind its back, using the pipe as leverage to keep it pinned. It struggles, its strength faltering, and with one final twist, I drive the jagged end of the pipe straight through its chest.
The creature gasps, its eyes widening as it slumps forward, blood spilling out onto the ground.
I step back, panting, watching as it collapses in a lifeless heap. My fingers are slick with blood, my pulse pounding in my ears, but the fight is over.
I glance down at the lifeless body of the creature, its blood pooling around it. Another one down. Another victory.
But this... this is just the beginning.