Pain. Sharp, searing pain tore through his consciousness. Every nerve in his body screamed, a dull ache settling deep into his bones. His first instinct was to move—to hunt, to fight—but his limbs felt alien, sluggish, and weak.
Weak.
The thought hit him harder than any weapon ever had.
He was born strong we was always on top of any food chain this was unfamiliar feeling and unsettling sensation he didn't even know that this was a thing
He gasped for air , his lungs burning as though they'd forgotten how to draw air. A sickly, damp smell filled his nostrils—sweat, mildew, and something metallic. Blood. His body ached, every fiber screaming in protest as he tried to move.
Where was he?
The last thing he remembered… chaos. Lights and sounds, humans screaming, their weapons spitting fire and metal, the relentless hunt. The apex predator reduced to prey. What a humiliation he didn't know the emotions he felt they were strong yet Unsatisfactory
He pushed himself up, his arms trembling under his own weight. The movement felt foreign. He glanced down at his hands, expecting the razor-sharp claws that had once torn through flesh and metal alike. Instead, he saw pale, fragile fingers. Human hands.
What is this?
He flexed them experimentally, disgusted by their fragility. No talons. No hardened bone. Just soft, weak flesh. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his ribs pressing uncomfortably against his skin. He felt… fragile. Breakable.
This isn't my body.
A wave of confusion washed over him. His limbs felt unfamiliar, frail and small compared to the hulking form he once had. He struggled to sit up, his muscles barely responding to his will.
"Where am I?" The voice that escaped his lips startled him. It was soft, higher-pitched than his growling, guttural tones.
He looked around, his eyes taking in the room. It was small, with wooden walls and a single window letting in the golden glow of sunlight. A simple mat beneath him served as his bed, and there was a set of folded robes in the corner.
He caught sight of his reflection in a cracked bronze mirror leaning against the wall. What stared back at him was a young man, no older than twenty. His features were sharp but human—utterly human. Black hair fell messily over his forehead, and his dark eyes carried a faint glint of confusion.
This wasn't him.
This wasn't the predator who had terrorized worlds, who had hunted and consumed entire civilizations.
What happened to me?
Flashes of his previous life struck him like lightning bolts.
different world. A different body. He had been a hunter—a predator born to kill. He had roamed the endless void of space, a creature designed for survival, consuming different life form. That was both his life and hobby he didn't desire anything else just the thrill of hunting his prey and the joy of consuming it that's it his whole life from the moment he left his mother planet until that curesd day in....
Earth. That cursed planet. He had come to it expecting easy prey. Humans, with their soft bodies and reliance on technology, had seemed like nothing more than food waiting to be consumed. He had descended upon their world like a shadow, his monstrous form moving unseen through their cities. His claws had ripped through their defenses, his teeth tearing into their flesh.
But humans were not like the other species he had hunted. They were adaptable, resourceful, and above all, relentless. At first, they fell like all the others, their weapons and walls crumbling before his onslaught. But then, they began to fight back.
They studied him, tracked him, and found his weaknesses. His strength, his speed, his regenerative abilities—none of it mattered when they came for him in force. He remembered the sting of their weapons, the traps that sapped his strength, and the fire that burned his flesh.
For the first time in his existence, he felt fear.
He fought back with everything he had, his monstrous form tearing through their ranks. But the humans kept coming, wave after wave, until even he could not stand. They had stripped him of his pride, his power, and finally, his life.
He remembered the humiliation of it all. The predator brought to his knees, his body broken and his will shattered. They had cornered him like an animal, their weapons trained on him as he lay defeated.
And then, darkness
" okay now let's foucus on this, where am I I need to Gather information about this place and get used to this weak body"
Every movement reminded him of how weak he had become. The muscles that once propelled him through impossible leaps now trembled under his own weight. His senses, once so sharp they could track prey from miles away, were dulled.
He closed his eyes, trying to summon the primal instincts that had once guided him. But there was only silence
He couldn't hear the whispers of the wind, couldn't smell the fear of prey. Even his hunger—the insatiable bloodlust that had defined him—felt muted.
He stumbled to the window, his legs barely cooperating. Outside, he saw a courtyard filled with young men swinging wooden sticks . Their movements were sharp, deliberate, and disciplined.
*What is this place?*
He watched them for a moment, expecting the familiar surge of hunger, the urge to tear them apart. But it didn't come.
Instead, he felt… nothing.
The absence of bloodlust unsettled him. These were humans, the same creatures who had hunted and killed him. He should have hated them, should have wanted to destroy them. But as he watched them spar, all he felt was a hollow emptiness.
What is wrong with me?
He turned away from the window, his disgust with himself growing. Not only was his body weak, but his very nature felt diminished. He was no longer the predator he had once been.
The door creaked open behind him, and he turned, his instincts flaring for a moment before settling. A young boy stepped into the room, carrying a bowl of porridge.
"young master , you're awake!" the boy exclaimed, his voice filled with relief. "The doctor said you might not recover."
The name struck him like a slap. Xian? Was that who he was supposed to be?
The boy placed the bowl on the table beside the bed. "You've been unconscious for days. The doctor thought you wouldn't make it after that injury…"
The boy's words barely registered. Brother Xian? Injury? None of it made sense.
He fought the urge to growl, to lash out. He wasn't the predator he once was. He have to speak like them he new what to say but his tongue is unfamiliar tool for him he tried his best
"What happened to me?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.
"You were ambushed by bandits while fetching herbs ," the boy explained, setting the bowl down.
*Bandits? Herbs ?* The words were meaningless to him, but he nodded anyway. He couldn't reveal his ignorance—not yet.
"I'll go inform the doctor to come and check your condition "
As the boy left, he stared at the bowl of porridge. His stomach growled, a faint reminder of his humanity. He picked up the bowl, examining the contents. The scent of it was faint, barely registering in his dulled senses.
He forced himself to eat, each bite reminding him of how far he had fallen. Once, he had consumed entire creatures, absorbing their life force and strength. Now, he was reduced to eating this bland, flavorless mush.
But one thing was clear: this body was his now. If he was to survive in this strange place, he would need to know where he is now and how to restore his health and more important he needs to know
where he stand in the food chain of this world