Pain.
That was the last thing Cain remembered. A searing, gut-wrenching pain as the blade sank into his chest. The warm trickle of blood spilling over his fingers. The way his breath hitched as darkness swallowed him whole.
He had always known death was inevitable, but he never thought he would meet his end so soon—or in such a pathetic manner. Ambushed. Betrayed. Cut down like a dog in the very city where he once reigned as an untouchable shadow.
And yet, death was not the end.
A sharp gasp tore from his lips as he awoke in suffocating darkness. The weight of the earth pressed against him, cold and unforgiving. Panic surged in his chest. He tried to move, only to feel his limbs bound in something tight, constraining.
Wood.
A coffin.
His fingers scraped against the rotting wood above him, splinters breaking away beneath his grip. A rush of instinct—no, desperation—overtook him, and with unnatural strength, he pushed against the lid. It cracked, then shattered. Dirt collapsed over him, but he did not suffocate. He did not need to breathe.
With a final heave, he clawed his way free, rising from the grave like a forgotten nightmare. His vision adjusted to the dim, pale glow of the moon overhead, illuminating a desolate landscape of twisted trees and cracked tombstones.
Then, the voice echoed in his mind.
[System Activated.]
[Initializing Deathbound Protocol.]
[Host Status: Undead - Lich Class Acquired.]
Cain froze.
Undead? No. That wasn't possible. He was human—wasn't he?
Instinctively, his hands rose to his face. The flesh was wrong. Smooth, too smooth. Cold as the grave. Slowly, he brought his fingers down to his chest, to where the fatal wound should have been.
Nothing. No heartbeat. No breath.
Only emptiness.
[Welcome to the Deathbound System. Adapt or perish.]
A rush of information flooded his mind, a torrent of knowledge too vast, too foreign. His body convulsed as the system's power wove itself into his very essence. New instincts replaced old ones. Hunger—an insatiable hunger—not for food, but for something deeper, more primal.
Souls.
Cain clenched his jaw, steadying himself against the tombstone behind him. This was not the afterlife. This was something else entirely. A second chance? A curse?
Whatever it was, one thing was certain.
He was no longer the hunter.
He was the monster lurking in the dark.