His only way out was a dark tunnel starved of any light. Ancient stone loomed overhead as her whispers led him down an old tunnel carved from rocks that predated humanity itself. The air tasted old, thick with dust, as though he was disturbing a tomb haunted with forgotten massacres.
The roar of the crowd penetrated even these walls, their hunger for death a constant reminder of the bloodsport happening just outside. Someone was dying out there right now, and if they were screaming, the sound was lost in the symphony of violence that never quite ended in this godforsaken place.
Still dazed from his duel, he walked with the somber purpose of a man lost in his thoughts, and who had no idea where he was going.
Frankly, he didn’t care. As long as he wasn’t in that arena, he was happy.
Silhouettes shifted in the darkness up ahead, and his eyes snapped back into focus. Thick roots pierced through the crumbling walls like petrified veins, their surfaces slick with glowing moss that cast sickly green light across faces still splattered with arena blood.
The others.
Tara, Victor, Olivia, Marcus, and Rachel clustered together in the darkness, their faces awash with the green glow from the mossy walls. Most of them stared at the floor as he approached, oblivious to his presence, their expressions a blend of quiet resignation and barely restrained terror. Only Victor carried the air of a seasoned killer as he leaned against the wall with one leg propped against the ancient stone.
Behind them, a little girl popped into existence, floating midair. The System smiled, her grin glowing in the darkness, and her gaze remained firmly fixed on Ace.
“Just let us pick our classes already,” he snapped.
His voice echoed off the walls, blending with the steady thunder of the crowd outside, and everyone paused. The survivors shifted their attention to him, and even the floating girl leading them into the darkness paused to look his way.
“So impatient,” the System chided.
Ace paused beside Tara, and though he remained focused on the floating girl in front of him, he could still see Tara through the corner of his eye. She stood rigidly at attention beside him, her jaw clenched so tight he could hear her teeth grinding. Her usual coffee-and-gunpowder scent now carried traces of rust and copper—telltale signs of how much blood she had spilled in the arena. She was handling the change with all the grace and poise of someone accepting a death sentence with style.
"Quite the graduating class," the System's childlike voice echoed through the tunnel. She floated higher above them, cross-legged in the air as if gravity was more of a polite suggestion than a law. "Though I must say, the selection process was particularly entertaining this time. Well done, my little heroes."
With the two dragon shifters dead, not a heartbeat could be heard amongst the surviving initiates. They all stood in loose formation, their bodies still adjusting to their first evolutions.
Ace's knuckles cracked as he curled one hand into a fist. He could still smell the blood from the arena—could still hear the screams of those who hadn't made it. The System had forced them to murder to survive, even encouraging them to kill each other at one point, and now she was treating it like a particularly good episode of reality TV.
"Now, then!" She clapped her hands together, and the sound reverberated through the chamber like a gunshot. "Let's see what all that lovely murder has earned you, shall we?"
Blue light shimmered in front of each survivor, coalescing into floating displays. Ace's eyes narrowed as he read his options:
———
CLASS PATHS AVAILABLE
Savage Ripper (Uncommon)
Crimson Harbinger (Uncommon)
Dusk Emperor (Legendary)
———
"Oh, look at you, Sergeant," the System said, her voice carrying an edge of sadistic glee as she pivoted to read his screen. "Your choices in the arena have shaped what you can become. Each kill, each death, each moment of violence has left its mark, and…”
Her smile faltered as she trailed off, her eyes locked on one of the class options. Ace couldn’t tell which, or why she had gotten so quiet, but she ultimately cleared her throat and floated away without another word.
Interesting.
Ace didn’t know what to make of that.
Victor stepped forward, his movement drawing everyone's attention. "I choose Blood Tyrant.”
“A legendary class!” the System squealed happily. “You lucky thing!”
As she spoke, she briefly glanced over her shoulder at Ace. It was swift, almost indiscernible from the bored toss of her hair that followed, but Ace caught it all the same.
A clue.
Before anyone could say another word, crimson light erupted around Victor's form like signal flares from hell. His muscles tensed and bulged, the combat-honed sinews restructuring themselves into something designed for more than just human warfare. Dark patterns emerged across his skin—tattoos that writhed with power like living ink, spreading up his arms like creeping tendrils of night.
The moment the power really hit, Victor's expression shifted. Ace knew that look—he had seen it on a few fresh recruits after their first confirmed kill. It came in the instant when dealing death became less about survival and more about dominance.
Not good.
Victor flexed his fingers, watching the darkness dance between them. Ace tracked the man’s movements with the kind of attention to detail the Corps had branded into his very DNA. Each of Victor’s gestures carried the ghost of military precision—the same economy of motion that kept soldiers alive in combat, now twisted into something that belonged in a horror movie's highlight reel.
The shadows answered Victor's commands, writhing between his fingers with predatory grace. The display triggered every combat instinct Ace had developed over his years of service, sending thin streams of adrenaline through his veins. In his time as a soldier, he had been trained to analyze enemy capabilities, to break down threats and respond accordingly.
But he had no idea how the hell to react to someone playing puppet master with darkness itself.
The darkness responded to Victor like a trained attack dog, if that dog had been bred in the deepest pit of the abyss. Their psychotic little goddess had taken everything they knew about efficient killing and cranked it straight past deadly, probably adding a sprinkle of eternal damnation just for kicks.
"I should be disgusted," Victor said, his voice carrying new harmonics that made Ace's instincts flare with warning. "I should be fighting this." He laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut. "But power like this… it’s…”
“Intoxicating,” the System finished for him.
Oh, shit.
Victor's eyes had changed—and not just from human to vampire red. There was something calculating and predatory in the way he scanned their surroundings now, as if he were judging each person’s monetary value.
Whatever that Blood Tyrant class had done to Ace's former squadmate, it went deeper than just raw power.
“What a lovely choice.” The System’s eyes widened with devilish glee, and she circled Victor like a shark sizing up particularly interesting prey. "You're going to turn bloodshed into an art form. I can already see those tactical wheels turning in that pretty little head of yours. Choosing killzones... optimal feeding grounds... strategic terror deployment..."
Victor smirked, and he stood a little taller as the System spoke. She was inflating the bastard’s ego so much it might pop.
“Welcome to the other side of humanity, my little monster.” The System’s voice darkened as she spoke, the tone deepening to something unnatural, and she smiled with those wickedly sharp teeth.
Good God.
The System's idea of a promotion never disappointed in the horror department.
Each choice in this world carried weight. Each decision would shape not just their abilities, but their very nature. Their future. Their potential. Maybe even their limitations.
The System hadn't just given them power—she'd given them rope to hang themselves with, and she was clearly enjoying watching them tie their own nooses.
The floating child in front of them scanned their faces one by one, and she ultimately settled on Tara. “What about you, my pretty little murderer?”
Tara’s eyebrows shot up her forehead in surprise, but she cleared her throat as she regained her composure. Her eyes scanned the glowing blue screen in front of her, and after a few moments of tense silence, Tara lifted her chin in a subtle act of defiance.
“Blood Saint,” she answered, her voice shaking as she spoke.
Instantly, dark red light washed over Tara, but it was neither warm nor soothing. This was molten and ancient—the color of blood-stained church windows at sunset. It transitioned to a churning golden hue and painted her skin in shades of amber and brass, transforming their team’s field medic into something that straddled the line between sacred and profane.
The change started at her hands—fitting, Ace figured, for a healer-turned-predator. Golden sigils etched themselves into her skin like divine circuitry, following the paths of major arteries and veins. They pulsed brilliantly, like a roadmap through her body.
Ace watched the transformation with growing unease. He'd seen what the System's "gifts" did to soldiers like Victor and to analysts like Rachel, but this was different. Where the others' changes had been raw and primal, Tara's radiated with an unsettling serenity. The kind of tense silence he had once felt in an old church that had seen too much betrayal and maybe a bit of bloodshed.
Her eyes underwent the most dramatic shift. The warm brown irises darkened to the color of aged wine. These weren't the eyes of a predator or a killer—they were the eyes of someone who could see the sacred in suffering. Someone who could drain life with the same precise care she had once used to save it.
Huh.
He couldn’t tell if this was an incredible asset to the team, or the worst choice she could’ve possibly made.
In a rush, the light faded, but the changes remained. Tara studied her hands in awe. Their combat medic had become something that walked the knife's edge between salvation and damnation.
A dark saint for an even darker world.
“Oh!” the System clapped her hands together happily. “How utterly fascinating. A vampire who's turned their cursed existence into something almost... sacred.”
Tara frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Hmm.” The floating girl tapped her delicate finger against one cheek as she studied Tara’s face, evidently debating whether or not to explain. Ultimately, however, the System shrugged her little shoulders. “The Blood Saint stands as living proof that even the darkest curse can be twisted into something resembling grace—though let's not get too carried away with the 'saint' part, darling. You're still a creature of darkness who must drain life to sustain yourself.”
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The medic’s teeth ground together, and though her eyes narrowed as she and the System locked gazes, she didn’t respond.
“What about you, Sergeant?” the System asked.
Ace’s head snapped toward the floating girl, and she watched him with narrowed eyes that dared him to answer.
This wasn’t a class selection at all, at least not for him.
It was a test.
Ace studied his options again, but the list of choices didn’t have much in the way of explanation. The System wanted them to become monsters. That much was clear. The question wasn't how to avoid it, then, but rather how to become the right kind of monster.
The kind that could survive long enough to find a way home—or, better yet, the kind that could find a way to put this sadistic little goddess in the ground.
"Well?" The System drifted closer, her ancient eyes gleaming with anticipation. "What's it going to be, my darling little soldier? How would you like to evolve?"
He only had three options, and she had given him a clue of which to pick. To be safe, however, he would look at each of them before he made his final choice.
Each of the classes pulsed with soft light, and he tapped on Crimson Harbinger first. A screen blipped to life in front of him.
———
Class: Crimson Harbinger
System's Description: My darling catastrophe architect! How utterly fascinating to watch you dance on the edge of oblivion, deliberately courting death only to transform it into your greatest weapon! Most vampires flee from destruction, but you? You embrace it with open arms, turning moments of certain doom into brilliant victories.
The way you calculate each near-death experience, each brush with annihilation—measuring precisely how close you can come to the abyss without tumbling in—it's positively thrilling! Your body bears the scars of a thousand almost-endings, each one a lesson written in blood and pain that you've meticulously catalogued in that brilliant, twisted mind of yours.
Do continue this delightful flirtation with fate, precious. Though remember… even the most skilled dancer eventually misses a step.
Last chosen: 13 years ago.
Core Aspect: [Catastrophe Calculus]
- Transforms proximity to death into power
- Each near-fatal experience increases damage potential
- Abilities grow stronger as health diminishes
- Mathematical precision applied to chaos and destruction
Immediate Impact:
- Dramatic risk-reward mechanics
- Thrives in desperate situations
- Weaponizes vulnerability and damage
- Turns tactical disadvantages into strategic opportunities
———
Interesting.
Ace's jaw tightened as he debated the pros and cons of this one. Each near-death would become a benefit, transforming losing scenarios into wins by weaponizing his own vulnerability. But the System was clearly engineering a path of self-destruction disguised as tactical advantage—creating addicts who'd chase increasingly dangerous thresholds until their egos claimed them. He'd seen too many Marines develop that thousand-yard stare after one too many near-misses. This path would transform him into a gambler, constantly calculating acceptable losses until eventually the house—a giggling child-thing that fed on failure—inevitably won.
Nope.
Pass.
Time for the next one—Savage Ripper.
The name itself intrigued him, and he could only imagine the sort of power a class like that would give him.
A new screen popped to life in front of him.
———
Class: Savage Ripper
System's Description: Oh, the raw FURY in you! How absolutely magnificent! Where other vampires try to cling to their lost humanity, you've embraced the monster with such passionate abandon that it makes my nonexistent heart flutter!
Your rage isn't just emotion—it's become your anatomy. Those hands haven't just learned to kill; they've transformed into weapons. Those teeth don't just feed; they RIP through existence itself. You've taken everything that was done to you—every humiliation, every moment of helplessness—and forged it into something gloriously, unapologetically SAVAGE.
I will simply adore watching your victims realize too late that they're not facing some calculating predator, but a force of nature wrapped in flesh and fury. Do keep embracing that beautiful rage, darling. After all, nothing cuts quite like the weapon forged from one's own broken pieces.
Last chosen: 25 years ago.
Core Aspect: [Weaponized Fury]
- Physical transformation of body parts into lethal weapons
- Rage and pain channeled into enhanced physical abilities
- Each evolution unlocks more extreme anatomical weapons
- Sustained damage increases attack capabilities
Immediate Impact:
- Visceral, aggressive, intimidating
- Focuses on physical transformation and bodily weapons
- Perfect for those who embrace their monstrous nature
- Emphasizes speed and overwhelming force
———
Oh, damn.
The Savage Ripper option triggered an immediate surge of adrenaline in Ace. His fingers flexed involuntarily as he imagined his body transforming into weaponry. He would become a walking arsenal with no dependence on external gear. His CQC training had already allowed him to hone his body into a weapon in and of itself, but this would be one hell of an upgrade.
But beneath the promised power lurked a minefield. This class weaponized emotion itself, creating a feedback loop where rage fueled transformation, which would inevitably fuel more rage. The System wasn't offering power—she was offering a one-way ticket to becoming exactly the monster she wanted him to become.
Still, it seemed like a decent option.
But he had one more class to go.
Next, he tapped his finger against the last class option—Dusk Emperor. Another display opened, and he glanced at the System’s anxious expression before returning his attention to the screen.
———
CLASS: DUSK EMPEROR
Oh darling, isn't it just delicious? The sun sets on your humanity, and in that fading light, you rise as something magnificent. Your very essence commands the dying of the day, that exquisite moment when light surrenders to darkness.
Those who kneel before the Dusk Emperor's might aren't drawn by mere royal decree, but by the inexorable pull of twilight itself. Each kill darkens your crown, each death strengthens your reign, until, well, let's not spoil the delightful surprises that await as your empire of eternal dusk expands.
Do try to be worthy of the title, darling. It would be such a shame if this power consumed you like all the others.
Last chosen: 524 years ago.
———
Ace grinned.
As tempting as the other two had been, this wouldn’t be a difficult choice at all.
“Dusk Emperor.” His voice cut through the air, firm and final.
No doubt. No hesitation. If he was about to enter a world as unforgiving as the System had claimed, then he needed every advantage he could possibly get.
Though the System’s chin lifted in defiance, she couldn’t hide the way her eyes briefly widened.
It was almost like she was…
…afraid.
The moment stretched like a dying breath—until darkness erupted.
Black flames consumed Ace's body, but instead of burning, they sang. The haunting melody of twilight itself wrapped around him, a symphony of shadows that turned his blood to liquid night. Each breath pushed the transformation deeper, rebuilding him from the inside out.
His bones cracked and reformed, forcing him to his knees. The System drifted back, those ancient eyes showing a hint of uncertainty as tendrils of pure darkness writhed around him. He gritted his teeth as the pain hit him squarely in the chest, and he managed to bite back an agonized yell.
This wasn't just evolution—this was something older, something that remembered when the first sun had set and the night had claimed its throne.
His spine arched as midnight itself replaced his marrow, and the taste of copper flooded his mouth as his fangs lengthened. But it wasn't just physical change. Each pulse of dark energy carried memories—the collective weight of every sunset since time began, when light had surrendered its kingdom to the monsters that stalked through the darkness.
And, one day, he would join them.
The monsters.
Power thrummed through his veins. The transformation reached his eyes, and suddenly the world shifted. Everything held an edge of twilight now, as if reality itself acknowledged his dominion over the dying of the day.
The pain stretched on.
It was agonizing.
World-shattering.
It weighed on his shoulders, nearly pushing him to his knees, but he refused to bend to it. This was his, and he would carry it with the confidence of a soldier headed to war. That was the life he had known, after all, and the one he had chosen when he’d first joined the Marines.
Honor.
Courage.
Commitment.
They were the tenants of service, and they rooted him to who he was before he’d come to this hellhole. Like anchors in a hurricane, they gave him thin tethers to his humanity.
When the pain finally subsided, he found himself on the ground. His knees pressed into the cold stone, and his chest heaved with each gasping breath. When he regained his composure, he rose slowly, black flames still dancing across his skin. They didn't burn—they crowned him, marking him as something that walked the razor's edge between light and dark. His uniform had transformed too, replaced with leather armor as black as the night itself. The midnight fabric rippled with patterns that might have been stars, or might have been souls.
The System's smile returned, but it was different now. Darker. Wary. Curious. “A word of warning, Sergeant.”
As ribbons of lingering pain pulsed through him, he set one hand on his aching chest. The silence stretched on, and he raised one eyebrow expectantly as he waited for her to continue.
“There’s a reason this class appears so sporadically,” she explained. “And there’s a reason no one with this class is alive today.”
“And that is?” he prompted, his shoulders still tight from the transformation.
In answer, she simply smiled. “You’ll see.”
Ace flexed his fingers, watching the nearby shadows bend toward him like subjects before their king. Every movement felt so right, as if his body had been waiting for this power since the moment he was born.
Or, perhaps, since the moment he had died.
"The sun sets on your humanity, Sergeant," the System said, drifting closer. "But oh, what a magnificent darkness rises in its place."
He met her gaze, and she looked instantly away.
The crackle of tar-black flames around Ace settled like war paint, the fires sinking into his skin with the finality of a kill order. He watched the others, cataloging their reactions with his newly enhanced senses.
Rachel's expression twisted something in Ace's core—it was a familiar sadness he'd seen too many times in basic training. Raw regret carved shadows across her features, mixing with the kind of envy that could eat someone alive. Ace and the others had shown self-restraint, and as such, they’d become powerful. Her chosen class, however, was common, and that meant she was just another vampire in a world that bred nightmares. Standing here now, watching the others evolve into something greater than she could dream of becoming, she looked like someone who'd realized too late they'd settled for surviving when they could have learned to rule.
The System addressed those who remained and, one by one, they chose their classes. Marcus chose the uncommon class Mind Drinker, and the transformation wasn't explosive—it was insidious. Violet energy crawled through him like a virus corrupting code, his eyes igniting with psychic fire that seemed to strip away the walls of reality itself. The air around him hummed with potential, and nearby objects vibrated like they were trying to escape his mental grasp.
Crimson light erupted around Olivia once she chose Blood Dancer. The magic wrapped around her like liquid ribbons, coiling up her arms and legs in mesmerizing patterns. She rolled her shoulders and spun, drinking in her new power with a happy sigh. Each motion left trails of blood-red afterimages hanging in the air, and Ace couldn't shake the feeling he was watching a predator practicing its kill strikes—beautiful, graceful, and deadly as hell.
Another surge of hunger shot through him, and his gaze involuntarily shifted to her chest. It was an altogether foreign hunger from what he’d felt thus far, and he cleared his throat to get ahold of himself.
"Well now," the System's voice cut through the tense air, and her hands clasped together in sadistic glee. "Isn't this delightful? A Dusk Emperor, a Blood Tyrant, a Blood Saint, a Mind Drinker, and a Blood Dancer." Her ancient eyes slid toward Rachel with predatory amusement. "And of course, our dear little coward.”
Rachel's jaw clenched, but she kept quiet.
“Now.” The System clasped her hands together regally and raised her delicate little chin as her gaze shifted to Ace. “Some of you earned titles, out there, and you still need to choose your Skills. I suggest you choose carefully, because whatever you do next will determine whether or not you have what it takes to survive out there without me.”
Oh, good.
At least they would be rid of her eventually.
“What’s more,” she added, her eyes narrowing as she studied Ace’s features. “Some of you have more exciting choices than the others.”
He paused, and it took a moment for him to register what she meant.
The nightmare bear had set him apart from the others—and, given how much she had tormented him thus far, he wasn’t sure if that was good or very, very bad.
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