[The Vampire Overlord System has been bound to the Host.]
The words flashed across Simon's vision, causing a brief, almost imperceptible pause.
His body tingled with an unnatural energy as the screen disappeared, leaving behind a strange sense of change.
His skin felt colder, and he could sense a subtle shift beneath the surface — his veins, his pulse, his very blood.
He glanced at his hands. His skin had paled slightly, not a dramatic transformation but enough for him to notice.
His fingers felt lighter, faster, as if the weight of his previous human existence had been lifted in some small, but significant way.
The most noticeable change, though, was in his eyes. His once blue irises had morphed into an eerie shade of crimson, glowing faintly in the dim light of the car's interior.
His reflection in the rearview mirror was unrecognizable — no longer the man he used to be. Sure, his loose unkempt hair was still there but did that matter in the Apocalypse?
[Congratulations, Your Race has changed.]
[Human → Vampire (Fledgling).]
He didn't feel the profound horror that he'd imagined might come with such a transformation. Instead, he felt... sharper.
The world around him seemed more vivid, more alive. It was a strange new awareness — his senses dialed up to an intensity that felt almost overwhelming.
And yet, his body felt the same, aside from the slight strength coursing through his limbs, a reminder of the power now within him.
But he didn't dwell on it. Simon had learned the hard way that getting caught up in the changes didn't get you anywhere.
The apocalypse had already begun, and it wasn't waiting for him to adjust to his newfound nature.
He slammed his foot down on the pedal, and the engine of his car roared to life. The tires screeched against the asphalt as he sped forward, the dark streets around him eerily empty.
Simon didn't have the luxury of wondering why the city was so quiet; his focus was on survival.
He had to think ahead. The car was a temporary resource, and he had no idea how long it would last, but that didn't matter right now.
What mattered was food. Water. Supplies. He had to gather what he could before things got worse. And from the look of things, it would get much worse.
His stomach growled as he neared the supermarket — a place he'd frequented for years, even before all of this chaos.
It was a small, local shop, family-owned, and Simon had come to trust the owner over the years.
If there was one place he knew he could get supplies, it was here. As he approached the lot, he noticed how quiet it was. The streets were barren, almost too quiet for his liking. But he kept driving.
The sound of his car's engine was the only thing that broke the silence as he pulled up to the parking lot. He parked quickly, barely stopping before throwing the car into park.
He didn't know how long it would be before things got worse, but he knew this was a good spot to start.
The store had no power — of course, it didn't. The lights inside were off, but the windows were intact, and Simon didn't hesitate. He stepped out of the car, his enhanced senses making every small sound seem louder.
The crunch of broken glass beneath his boots, the whisper of the wind in the distance — it all felt... different now. Not better or worse, just sharper.
He walked toward the door and tried to open it. Locked. Simon sighed, rolling his shoulders.
He hadn't wanted to force his way in, but if there was no other way, he'd do it. He kicked the door with a firm motion, and the glass cracked, shattering easily under the pressure.
He winced as the sharp sound echoed through the empty street, but he ignored it.
Inside, the shelves were mostly empty — some shelves were fully stocked, while others had been looted, their contents hastily discarded on the floor.
It looked like the owners had tried to protect their store, but it wasn't enough. As he stepped deeper into the store, his senses heightened again. The air seemed thick with tension, and there was something else — something faint.
Blood.
Simon's crimson eyes darted to the source. Several meters away, at the far end of the aisle, a man stood — he looked to be in his mid-forties, his clothes torn and bloodied, with a gun gripped tightly in his trembling hands.
His eyes widened in panic as he spotted Simon. The man's voice cracked as he shouted, "Don't move any closer!"
Simon froze, sensing the fear radiating off the man. He could hear the man's heartbeat, rapid and erratic.
He could smell the faint scent of sweat, the panic that clung to him like a second skin.
"If you take another step, I'll shoot!" the man warned, his voice shaky.
Simon stood there for a moment, studying the man. He didn't know what kind of person he was dealing with, but Simon wasn't worried.
He wasn't afraid. The changes he'd undergone had given him power — more power than he had ever imagined. He knew he could handle whatever came his way.
Slowly, Simon took a step forward. He tried to appear calm, even though something about the man's fear seemed to set his senses on edge.
But as his foot touched the ground, the man panicked. He pulled the trigger with a desperate shake of his hand.
The gunshot rang out, deafening in the otherwise quiet store.
Time seemed to slow for Simon. He felt the bullet's path before he even saw it, the way it was aimed straight for his forehead.
His enhanced reflexes kicked in immediately. Without thinking, he bent backward, the movement smooth and fluid, an impossible feat for any human.
The bullet whizzed past him, missing by inches, and embedded itself into a nearby shelf with a loud thunk.
Simon's crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light as he stood upright again, a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
"You missed," Simon said, his voice calm, almost bored.
The man's hand wavered, the gun still aimed at Simon but with no real conviction.
"You're... You're a monster," the man whispered, terror in his voice and then his eyes widened, veins forming around his face, "Die!"