It had been five years since the apocalypse reshaped the world. On that fateful day, mysterious portals, glowing with ominous energy, appeared without warning across the globe. From their swirling depths emerged creatures thought to exist only in myths—vampires, werewolves, goblins, dark elves, and other monstrous beings.
Humanity's resistance was futile. Conventional weapons proved ineffective against the invaders. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off hardened skin or evaporated in the face of unearthly magic. Entire cities were reduced to smoldering ruins, and nations crumbled under the onslaught.
Among the chaos, a young man named Aiden managed to survive with his family—at least, for a while. They scavenged, hid, and clung to life in the face of unrelenting danger. But their fragile sanctuary was shattered not by monsters, but by desperate humans. Bandits, armed and driven by hunger and fear, descended upon their hiding place. They took what they wanted, and when that wasn't enough, they took lives.
Aiden could still hear the screams of his parents and younger sister as they were cut down. He had been left for dead, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Somehow, against all odds, he survived. But survival came at a cost—a life of loneliness, pain, and relentless fear.
Now, Aiden wandered the ruins of the world, doing whatever was necessary to endure.
The sky began to darken, the setting sun casting long shadows over the shattered city. Twilight was dangerous—monsters preferred the night, and humans fared no better. Aiden adjusted the straps of his worn backpack, the faint clinking of cans inside breaking the eerie silence.
"It's almost night," he murmured to himself, his voice low and hoarse. "I need to get back."
He moved swiftly, weaving through the skeletal remains of buildings. Rusted metal beams jutted out like broken bones, and shattered glass crunched beneath his boots. The air was thick with the smell of decay and dampness—a constant reminder of how far the world had fallen.
After nearly an hour of careful navigation, Aiden arrived at a concealed entrance. Piles of debris had been deliberately arranged to mask the small door from wandering eyes. He knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times.
Moments passed before the sound of a latch being unfastened broke the silence. The door creaked open just enough to reveal a slim figure standing behind it.
Mary peeked out cautiously, her dark eyes narrowing before her expression softened. "You're late, Aiden," she said, her voice a mix of relief and reprimand.
"Sorry," he replied with a faint smile, lifting his backpack. "Ran into some trouble, but I managed to find food."
She stepped aside, letting him in. Once inside, she bolted the door securely. The shelter was small and simple—a single room lit by a flickering oil lamp. A corner held a few pots and plastic bottles filled with water, while a handmade bed crafted from scavenged fabric and wood lay against one wall. Another hidden door at the far end served as an emergency exit.
Mary brushed a strand of dark hair from her face, her features weary but striking beneath layers of dirt. Her tattered clothes couldn't hide the determination in her eyes.
"You really had me worried this time," she said, crossing her arms.
Aiden set his backpack down and began unpacking his finds: a few dented cans of food, a loaf of stale bread, and a half-full water bottle. "I'm fine, Mary. Let's eat before it gets too late."
She nodded, her expression softening as she moved to grab the pots. Together, they prepared a simple meal, their quiet teamwork a small act of defiance against the cruel world outside.
As they ate in silence, the flickering lamplight cast dancing shadows on the walls. In that fragile moment of peace, the weight of survival seemed a little lighter, if only for a while.
Aiden glanced at Mary, gratitude flickering in his eyes. She was more than just a companion—she was his anchor. After his family's death, she had become the reason he continued to fight. Aiden loved her deeply, with a devotion born of shared hardship. She had stood by him, her unwavering presence a beacon of light in a world consumed by darkness.
But the world was cruel, always had been, and after the Cataclysm, it became an unrelenting nightmare.
Late that night, a loud, jarring boom shattered their fragile peace. Aiden jolted awake, his heart racing. Someone—or something—was forcing the main entrance.
"I've been followed," Aiden thought in disbelief. Panic surged through him. He had always been careful, never heading home directly to avoid leading anyone to their shelter. How could this have happened?
"Grab your bag, Mary. We're leaving," he said, his voice sharp and urgent.
Mary's eyes widened with fear, her hands trembling as she reached for her bag. They moved quickly to the emergency exit, a concealed door designed to lead them into a back alley.
Aiden pushed it open cautiously, peering out into the darkness. The alley was eerily quiet, the oppressive stillness broken only by the distant rustle of the wind. They slipped out, glancing left and right before starting to run.
The night was thick with shadows, and the darkness seemed to press against them as they moved. Aiden's mind raced. Something felt wrong.
"No matter how desperate people are, attacking someone at night like this is suicide," he thought grimly. The noise would attract monsters—it didn't make sense.
Then he heard it—a low, chilling laughter echoing from the darkness.
They were being hunted.
The realization hit like a physical blow. .
The laughter grew closer, and Aiden's pulse quickened. He tightened his grip on Mary's hand, his mind already calculating their next move.
They could not outrun their pursuers. Aiden's eyes darted frantically, seeking aught that might serve as refuge. Soon, his gaze fell upon the crumbled entrance of a ruined building. "In there! Quickly!" he urged, his voice hushed yet urgent, as he pushed Mary ahead of him. She stumbled through the threshold, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Yet, as they entered the shadowed ruins, a strange silence fell. The laughter that had hounded them moments before had ceased, leaving an eerie void.
The pair pressed deeper into the building, its hollowed interior rife with decay. They ascended a narrow, broken staircase, the faint creaks beneath their feet echoing like whispers. At last, they found a room—a forsaken office, its once-proud desk now a shattered relic of the old world. They crouched behind it, their breaths mingling in the tense stillness.
Then came the sound.
A whistle. Long and sinister, it pierced the silence with an almost playful malice. It was followed by slow, deliberate footsteps, their echo seeming to stretch endlessly.
He knows we are here, Aiden thought grimly, his heart pounding like a war drum. He turned to Mary, his eyes softening despite the storm raging within him. "Stay here, Mary. Do not move. All shall be well."
"What are you doing, Aiden?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Do not go… please."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm yet gentle. "Fear not. I shall return to thee—I promise." Yet even as he spoke the words, there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes, a flicker of regret.
Reaching into his worn bag, he withdrew an old knife, its once-sharp blade dulled by years of use. With resolve carved into his features, Aiden pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor beyond.
At the far end of the alley stood a figure cloaked in shadow. As the moonlight streamed through the broken window, the man's visage was revealed—pale as death, with eyes like embers and a smile that bared sharp canines. His garments, though antiquated, were fine and untattered, a stark contrast to the rags most humans wore.
"How noble," the vampire drawled, his voice smooth yet edged with mockery, "to think thou might protect thy beloved." His steps were slow and measured as he advanced toward Aiden, his predatory gaze fixed upon him.
Aiden gripped the knife tighter, his knuckles white with tension. Knowing there was no retreat, he charged forward with all his might, letting out a defiant cry. "Run, Mary!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty halls.
But the gap between human and vampire was vast—an abyss that no courage could bridge. Even the weakest of their kind could dispatch a score of trained men without so much as a scratch.
The vampire moved with a speed that defied comprehension. With a flick of his wrist, he struck Aiden across the face, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling as the impact reverberated through the room.
Before Aiden could recover, the vampire seized him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The predator's crimson eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he leaned closer, inhaling deeply. "Ah… what a scent," he murmured, his voice a mix of hunger and delight. "Thy blood is uncommonly pure, human."
Aiden struggled, but his limbs refused to obey. He was utterly helpless as the vampire sank his fangs into his neck. The venom coursed through his veins like fire, paralyzing him entirely. He could not scream, nor could he move.
As his life ebbed away, Aiden's thoughts turned to Mary. I promised to protect her… to keep her safe. And now… I have failed.
The vampire drank deeply, savoring each drop. As Aiden's pulse slowed to a faint whisper, the creature cast him aside, throwing his limp body through the shattered window. Aiden's vision blurred as he fell, the world spinning around him.
The vampire turned his attention toward the door where Mary hid, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried. The whistle resumed, haunting and cruel, as he moved to claim his next victim.
Aiden lay amidst the rubble, his body broken and blood seeping from his neck wound, pooling onto the cold, dusty ground. His breath was shallow, each exhale a struggle. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, his thoughts fragmented and fading.
Then the blood began to flow—trickling into ancient grooves carved into the stone beneath him. A faint hum echoed in the chamber as the intricate sigil, long dormant, drank deeply of the life streaming from Aiden's wounds. Lines of crimson light raced through its complex patterns, illuminating the room with an eerie glow.
Suddenly, a voice resonated in his mind—a voice that was both ancient and mechanical, laced with an authority that demanded attention.
DING!
Analyzing blood... Trace of vampiric genes detected!
Trace of Chaos essence detected!
Activating Primordial System...
Host in critical condition. Initiating emergency healing protocol.
Aiden's body convulsed as unseen forces coursed through him. His wounds began to knit together, and the searing pain subsided, replaced by a strange, invigorating energy. His heart, once faltering, now beat with unnatural strength.
DING!
Transformation initiated.
Transformation complete.
The voice continued:
Congratulations, host. You have inherited the Primordial System.
Aiden blinked, his vision swimming with foreign symbols and glowing text. Gradually, the system interface came into focus, floating before his eyes like a transparent screen.
Status :
Name: Aiden Eryndor
Race: Chaos Vampire (Thrall)
Health: 100/100
Mana: 50/50
Strength: 17
Speed: 20
Endurance: 18
Stamina: Infinite
Intelligence: 23
Willpower: 18
Skills: Blood Manipulation (Beginner); Enhanced Regeneration (Active/Passive); Vampiric Senses (Passive); Thrall's Hunger (Passive); Chaos heart (Unique)
Titles: Bearer of Chaos
Notifications:
Critical condition stabilized.
Race transformation successful: Human → Chaos Vampire (Thrall).
Warning: Host must consume blood within 48 hours to maintain stability.
System access unlocked. Explore features for further progression.
He rose to his feet, the darkness seeming to welcome him, as if it was where he had always belonged.