Renji Kuroya stood beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, his pulse still hammering in his ears.
The rain had lessened to a light drizzle, but his body felt feverish, burning with a heat that wasn't just from exertion.
His mind was reeling.
The monster he had just killed—no, the infected—had spoken to him. It had recognized something in him, something newborn, something unstable.
He exhaled sharply, watching the last wisps of black dust scatter into the air where the creature had fallen.
This wasn't normal.
Hunters didn't talk about infected creatures speaking. They were always described as mindless beasts, completely consumed by their mutations. But that thing had been aware—not just of itself, but of him.
You smell like us.
The words clung to his skin, sinking into his thoughts like a stain he couldn't wash away.
He was changing.
Faster than he had anticipated.
And the worst part?
He wasn't sure how much longer he could control it.
---
An hour later, a run-down internet café.
Renji sat in the dim booth, staring at the glowing screen in front of him. The walls were lined with aging monitors, the faint hum of cooling fans filling the stale air.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating.
This was stupid. What exactly was he looking for? "How to cure monster infection"?
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
Still, he had to start somewhere.
His first search was basic—"Dungeon Infection Cases."
Thousands of results flooded the screen, but most were tabloid garbage. He skimmed through articles about rogue Hunters going berserk, about "cursed survivors" being hunted down.
One particular result caught his eye:
> Government Statement on Infected Individuals: All Subjects Are to Be Eliminated on Sight.
His stomach twisted.
They didn't even try to contain or study infected people—they just erased them.
He clicked through more pages, searching for anything substantial. Then, buried deep in the results, he found something.
A forum thread.
> Title: "Anyone else experiencing… changes after dungeon exposure?"
His breath caught.
The original post was from four years ago.
> User: BlackMask
"I don't know how to say this, but… I think something's wrong with me. A week ago, I survived a dungeon break. I wasn't bitten or anything, but ever since then, my body feels different. Stronger. Faster. I hear things I shouldn't. Smell things from miles away. I don't know what's happening to me, but I think I'm changing."
Renji's grip on the mouse tightened.
There were responses.
> User: Hunter101
"Get yourself checked. If the organization finds out, you're dead."
> User: NightHound
"Don't fight it. It's evolution."
> User: GhostArm
"I had a friend who went through this. He thought he could control it, but he lost himself. If you start feeling hunger, you need to leave the city. The organization will kill you the moment they find out."
The thread ended abruptly. The last post was from a moderator:
> This discussion has been removed due to policy violations.
Renji scrolled down, but the user accounts were gone. Deleted. Wiped out.
His chest tightened.
They had been silenced.
Was this what awaited him? A nameless disappearance, erased before the world could even notice?
His reflection in the dark screen stared back at him, but it felt foreign. The person sitting here wasn't the same man who had clocked out of his office job just a few days ago.
No.
That man was already dead.
---
The Hunger Deepens.
Renji left the café and wandered the back alleys, his thoughts a tangled mess. His instincts told him to keep moving, to stay in the dark.
He pulled his hood lower over his face.
The hunger hadn't faded.
If anything, it had worsened.
Each passing moment, his body ached for more. More energy. More power. More—
His footsteps slowed.
The scent hit him before the sound did.
Blood.
A fresh wound. Human.
His fingers twitched.
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
This wasn't him. He wasn't some beast hunting prey in the streets.
But his body didn't agree.
His head snapped toward a side alley, where the scent was strongest. A man was slumped against the wall, clutching his side. Blood seeped through his fingers. A mugging? A fight? Renji didn't care.
Because all he could hear was the sound of a heart pounding. Weak. Fragile. Dying.
His own heartbeat quickened.
The hunger screamed.
Renji stumbled back, slamming a hand over his mouth. His breathing turned ragged, his vision blurred at the edges.
No.
No. No. No.
He wasn't going to lose himself.
With sheer force of will, he tore his gaze away and sprinted in the opposite direction, fists clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood.
He had to get out of here.
Now.
---
Somewhere far away, in a towering glass building overlooking the city, two figures studied a glowing monitor.
The screen displayed an alleyway security feed—grainy footage of a hooded figure staggering through the rain.
A woman in a white lab coat adjusted her glasses, narrowing her eyes at the feed.
"Interesting."
Beside her, a man in a dark suit exhaled through his nose. "He's barely keeping it together."
Dr. Yura Kaede smirked, tapping her fingers against the desk. "That's what makes him valuable."
Commander Seijuro Hoshinomiya didn't respond. His gaze remained locked on the screen.
They had been tracking this unknown infected for hours now. Unlike the others, he wasn't rampaging mindlessly. He was resisting.
A rare case.
"Should we capture him?" the scientist mused.
The commander remained silent for a moment.
Then, he turned away from the screen.
"Not yet."
Kaede arched an eyebrow.
Hoshinomiya's voice was calm, calculated.
"Let him struggle a little longer."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Prey is always more interesting when it still thinks it can escape."
---
Renji didn't know how long he had been running.
By the time he stopped, his breath was ragged, his muscles screaming. He collapsed onto the cold concrete of an abandoned rooftop, staring up at the night sky.
His fingers still trembled.
The hunger hadn't gone away.
But he had fought it.
And won.
For now.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his thoughts to settle. The city stretched beneath him like an endless labyrinth of neon and darkness.
This was his reality now.
A world where he was no longer just a man—but not yet a monster.
Somewhere between.
And if he wanted to survive, he would have to find that line.
And walk it carefully.
---
The night wind cut through the rooftop like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. Renji Kuroya stood near the edge, his hands gripping the rusted railing as he tried to steady his breath.
His heart was still pounding.
The hunger—it hadn't disappeared.
It lingered beneath his skin, slithering through his veins like a living thing, whispering.
Take. Consume. Become stronger.
He clenched his jaw, shaking the thoughts away.
It had been close. Too close.
Had he stayed in that alley a second longer, he wasn't sure what he would have done.
I'm not a monster.
But was that really true?
The vision of the dying man's blood had thrilled him, awakened something primal that had no place in a human mind. He had resisted. But for how long?
His reflection in the broken glass at his feet showed something off—his pupils were still faintly slitted, his breathing too shallow, too controlled.
Renji had changed.
And the city wasn't safe for him anymore.
---
Renji forced himself to focus. He needed a plan.
Escaping the city was an option, but without resources or money, he wouldn't last long. And more importantly—
The organization.
They had erased every mention of infected survivors from the internet. That meant they were watching. Hunting.
He had to assume they already knew about him.
Running blindly wouldn't work.
He needed to understand his infection before it consumed him.
And that meant testing his limits.
A dangerous thought crept into his mind.
Dungeons.
If the infection thrived on absorbing stronger prey, then a dungeon might hold the answers he needed.
Fight fire with fire.
But which dungeon? A low-rank dungeon wouldn't push his limits, and a high-rank one would kill him instantly.
A Tiger-class dungeon. That was his best bet.
If he was going to control this power, he needed to master it before it mastered him.
---
It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.
Tiger-class dungeons were unpredictable, often appearing in abandoned areas before being locked down by the government. But black-market hunters often broke in before the official teams could clear them.
And Renji had spent enough time in the underbelly of the city to know where to look.
He made his way toward the eastern industrial district, where an old factory had been repurposed into a temporary hunting ground.
A dungeon gate flickered at the center of the lot, an eerie violet glow pulsing against the night.
A group of rogue hunters had gathered nearby—armed, cautious, but relaxed. They weren't professionals. Probably scavengers hoping to pick off wounded dungeon creatures.
Renji's lips curled into a humorless smirk.
Perfect.
If he was going to be a predator, he needed to learn from one.
And there was no better teacher than the dungeon itself.
---
Renji stepped through the gate.
The moment he entered, the air changed.
The dungeon was cold, its stone corridors stretching into endless darkness. The walls pulsed faintly, like the insides of some enormous, living thing.
Then, a sound.
Something skittering.
Renji's muscles tensed as a shape emerged from the shadows—a beast with too many legs, its chitinous armor glistening in the dim light.
A dungeon predator.
It moved fast. Too fast.
But Renji's body reacted instantly.
Before he even thought about dodging, he had already shifted—his reflexes sharper than they should be, his movements unnatural.
The creature lunged.
Renji sidestepped, fluid as a shadow, his hand lashing out. His fingers tore through the beast's shell like paper.
A sickening crunch.
The monster spasmed, then fell limp.
For a moment, silence.
Renji exhaled, his breath shaky.
He had barely even tried.
The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
He was adapting. Too fast.
And the hunger—it wanted more.
---
As the beast's body crumbled into black dust, a wave of instincts slammed into Renji's mind.
A vision.
He saw through the creature's eyes. Felt the way it moved, the way it hunted.
And then—he felt something new.
His fingers twitched. His nails hardened, darkened slightly. His senses expanded. He could hear the faintest vibrations through the stone floor, sense movement before it even happened.
The monster's instincts.
They had become his.
Renji flexed his hand, watching the subtle shift in his fingers. Not a full transformation. Just… an imprint.
He swallowed hard.
How much of this could he take before he stopped being human?
The hunger didn't care. It wanted more.
And deep down, he wanted it too.
---
Renji continued through the dungeon, pushing himself harder, faster.
Each fight became smoother.
Each kill sharper.
The creatures weren't just prey anymore—they were lessons.
The more he fought, the more he adapted. He felt his body learning, his instincts sharpening.
It wasn't just raw strength.
It was something deeper.
He could anticipate movements before they happened. He could sense fear in his prey.
He was evolving.
And yet, he still wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
---
Far above the dungeon gate, hidden from sight, a drone hovered in silence.
And miles away, in a darkened control room, Dr. Yura Kaede leaned forward with keen interest.
"He's learning," she murmured.
Commander Hoshinomiya crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Too fast."
The scientist's smirk deepened. "That's what makes him interesting."
She tapped a button, zooming in on the footage.
"He's not just adapting to the infection," she mused. "He's using it."
The commander's eyes narrowed.
Kaede tilted her head, watching Renji's movements on the screen.
"What do you think will break first?" she asked, voice amused.
"The organization's ability to control him—"
She smirked.
"—or his ability to control himself?"
Hoshinomiya didn't answer.
But deep down, he already knew.
It was only a matter of time before Renji Kuroya stopped being prey.
And became the apex predator.