My consciousness flickers into existence, a spark in the void. I draw a sharp breath—my first—filling lungs that ache as if unused for ages. A dull ache radiates in my chest, followed by a strong, sudden thump. My heart beats—slow at first, then quickening, pushing lifeblood through my veins. The air is cold and thick with the scent of damp earth. Darkness presses in from all sides, but I feel more than see the world around me. Gritty soil clings to my bare arms and face as I lie prone on the ground, the texture of mud and decaying leaves imprinting on my skin.
I hear faint noises in the distance—a slow drip of water, the rustle of leaves as a breeze whispers through. My fingers twitch, digging into the wet soil; the tips bite deeper than expected. Something sharp extends from them—claws, caked in mud. Clumps of wet earth squelch between my long, gaunt fingers. Feeling returns in waves: the sting of chill air on my skin, the ache in stiff joints, the weight of my limbs. I blink, and my eyes open to a murky gloom. Shapes emerge—indistinct silhouettes of towering trees, their gnarled branches curling overhead like skeletal arms.
A low groan escapes my throat—rasping and unused, startling me with its sound. The noise makes me aware of my own presence in this silent place. Slowly, I press my palms against the ground and push. My arms tremble as I force my body upward, dragging my chest off the cold earth. I am unsteady. Limbs protest, muscles burning with effort. For a moment, I kneel among the ferns and moss, head bowed, white hair hanging in front of my face in lank, dirty strands. I push it back with one muddied hand, and in the dim gloom I see my forearm is the color of ash—pale grey skin stretched taut over corded muscle. Beneath streaks of grime, my flesh looks bloodless and corpse-like.
With effort, I plant one foot flat against the earth and push myself upright. My toes dig into the damp moss and soil, finding purchase as I rise. My legs are long and unsteady beneath me, but they hold. I stand, swaying, nearly seven feet tall by instinctive guess. The world tilts and I almost topple, catching myself against a nearby tree trunk. The bark is coarse and damp against my palm. I breathe slow and deep, steadying myself. A fine tremor runs through my limbs as strength gradually flows into them.
At first, the forest is silent but for the soft sigh of wind through the canopy high above. There are no obvious cries of birds or calls of animals, only the whisper of leaves. Yet as I listen, I catch hints of life: a distant chirr of insects, the faint scuttle of something small in the underbrush. The world is quiet, but not empty. My surroundings become clearer by the moment. Shafts of weak light filter between twisted branches overhead, illuminating patches of the forest floor in silvery pools. In that pale glow, I see gnarled tree roots snaking through the earth and ferns that brush against my legs. The trees themselves are enormous, their trunks covered in hanging moss and lichen. The air tastes damp and old, filled with the green scent of moss and the faint rot of wood.
I tilt my head upward. Through a gap in the canopy, a sliver of night sky reveals itself—an expanse of deep indigo. Hanging in that darkness are two pale moons, their cold light drifting down in hazy beams. The sight is strange, yet it stirs no memories. I have no recollection of this place, or of any place at all. My mind is a blank beyond this moment; there is only the now, and this world around me.
A subtle thirst coils in my throat, drawing my attention. I recall the drip of water I heard upon waking. Turning toward the sound, I step carefully over tangled roots. My movement is awkward at first—each stride too long, balance uncertain. I hunch instinctively to avoid low-hanging branches and push through clinging fronds. Leaves rustle against my shoulders. Gradually, step by step, coordination improves. My body, though unfamiliar, responds more fluidly with each motion, as if shaking off the stiffness of ages.
The sound of trickling water grows clearer. I push aside a curtain of broad leaves and find a shallow stream coursing through the trees. Water pools in hollows where the ground dips. A small amphibious creature resting at the bank plops into the water at my approach, vanishing with a splash. Insects skitter across the water's surface then dart away from the ripples. I sink to a crouch at the edge of one reflective pool. The water is dark but clear, holding a mirror of the twin moons' glow. I cup my hands and dunk them in. The cold makes me gasp softly. Scooping up water, I bring it to my cracked lips and drink. The chill liquid slides down my throat, soothing the raw dryness within.
As the ripples settle, a shape takes form on the water's surface. I see a face staring up at me—a visage pale and alien. Skin the color of old ashes, eyes black and gleaming with no whites at all, like twin voids. The face is gaunt, cheeks slightly sunken with high, pronounced bones. Long white hair hangs wild around it as I lean closer. The creature in the water mirrors my movements. I realize, with a strange detachment, that I am looking at myself.
I lift a hand to my face. The reflection's clawed hand rises as well to touch its cheek in tandem with my movement. The face in the water twists into a faint frown. Not from fear or disgust—those emotions are distant, unfamiliar—but from mild perplexity. I have no memory of how I should look, yet something about this image feels profoundly unnatural. A walking corpse, a monster. And that is me.
A sudden crack of a twig echoes in the quiet, snapping me to alertness. My head jerks up, water forgotten. The forest hushes; even the wind seems to pause. I remain crouched by the pool, every muscle tense. Slowly, I turn my head toward the sound. Through the maze of tree trunks and tangled foliage, something moves.
At first, it's just a shifting shadow among shadows. Then I catch the glint of eyes—low to the ground, reflecting the moonlight. A low growl rumbles from that darkness, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles in response. I rise slowly from my crouch, water dripping from my hands. Movement stirs the foliage as the creature prowls closer, stepping into one of the silvery moonlit patches on the forest floor.
It resembles a predatory beast, but unlike any I recall (if I could recall anything). The creature is canine in its stance, yet its form is twisted. It's roughly the size of a large wolf, shoulders low and hindquarters high as it skulks forward. I see patchy fur—mangy and dark—covering a body riddled with bony protrusions along its spine. Its eyes catch the light, feral and unblinking, fixed directly on me. A long snout reveals a maw of jagged teeth as it bares them in a snarl, drool stringing between its jaws. Clawed paws crunch softly on dead leaves as it circles, wary but intent.
My mind is strangely calm despite the tension coiling in my muscles. I do not think; I only feel the threat in front of me and react on a primal level. A deep, rumbling growl builds in my chest, vibrating through my throat. My lips curl back, baring teeth that feel too sharp and too many. The sound surprises me, primal and savage, yet undeniably mine. The creature snarls louder, likely surprised that its prey is standing tall and unafraid. It lowers its head and tenses, preparing to pounce. Sensing the imminent attack, I drop into a defensive crouch, one leg back, arms slightly spread. My fingers splay and I feel my claws fully extend, catching the moonlight as they gleam.
With a snarl, the beast springs from its crouch and launches itself at me. It is a blur of teeth and claws hurtling toward me. My body moves on instinct. I twist aside at the last moment. The beast's weight barreling past me nearly knocks me off balance, and a flash of pain lances through my left shoulder as its claws tear across flesh in passing. I barely register the injury. My right arm lashes out in reflex, claws splayed. I catch its flank as it lunges past, and feel the sickening yield of flesh as my talons rip through its hide.
The creature yelps and crashes to the ground at my feet, my strike having opened a long gash along its side. It scrambles, claws tearing up dirt, and in panic or rage snaps its jaws at me. Teeth clamp onto my forearm—an explosion of pain—but something instinctual surges within me. I snarl in fury and lash out with my free hand, clamping onto its throat. In one powerful squeeze, I feel the crunch of bone. I shove the beast down onto the ground. A wet snap echoes as its neck twists at an unnatural angle under my grip.
The beast falls limp, crashing into the leaf litter. A final spasm shudders through its body, then it goes still. Silence crashes down again, broken only by my ragged breathing. My heart hammers in my chest, adrenaline still coursing hot. The air is saturated with the coppery scent of blood. I glance down and see dark blood dripping from the claws of my right hand and a slick smear coating the grey skin of my forearm where its teeth pierced my flesh. A strange mix of sensations swirls within me: the wild intensity of battle still thrumming in my veins, but also a hollow confusion. My chest heaves with rapid breaths as I stare at the corpse, yet I feel no triumph, no remorse—only emptiness where such feelings ought to be. I had not intended to kill—had not intended anything—yet here lies the creature, throat crushed and life extinguished by my own hands.
My eyes linger on the fallen creature. In the dim light, its blood pools black around it. There is a strange tingling in my fingertips and an unexpected urge welling up inside me—a hunger, but not for flesh or food. It's something deeper, an instinct pulling me toward the dead beast.
I kneel beside the corpse, unsure why, only that I feel compelled. My hand hovers over the creature's broken neck and chest. For a moment, nothing happens. Then I see it: a faint glow rising from the gaping wounds I left. At first it is just a wisp of pale light, like mist caught in moonbeams. It swirls upward, drawn toward my hovering palm. My black eyes widen in fascination.
The white glow intensifies, coalescing into tendrils of light that snake out of the corpse. They curl and weave through the air, drawn inexorably to me. I feel a cool tingle as the first tendril touches my hand, then a sudden warmth spreading up my arm. The light is flowing into me.
More of the ethereal essence pours forth from the corpse in shimmering ribbons. The sight is breathtaking and terrible—illuminating the grim scene with an eerie white glow. The tendrils converge, pushing through my splayed fingers, sinking into my grey flesh. I gasp at the sensation. It's as if icy water and liquid fire run simultaneously through my veins. Not pain… something else. Energy. Life.
The creature's body begins to wither as the last motes of light pull free. Its remaining eye goes dull. In contrast, I feel a growing vitality surging inside me. My vision sharpens; the gloom isn't quite so all-consuming now, and every rustle in the dark is distinct to my ears. The stiffness in my limbs melts away, replaced by a lithe strength. Even the ache of my wounds dwindles. I glance at my shoulder and forearm in disbelief as the bloody gashes begin to knit closed under the ghostly illumination. The white radiance finally fades, absorbed fully into my body, and with it comes a profound sense of fullness—as if some void within me has been sated.
Before I can fully process what I've done, a new sensation overwhelms me. My heart lurches as an alien light floods my sight, and for an instant I reel, fearing some unseen attack on my mind. A chiming noise—distant and metallic—rings in my ears. Simultaneously, ghostly symbols and text flicker into existence before my eyes. I recoil, falling back onto one knee, and instinctively swipe at the air. But the glowing words remain, hanging in front of me, overlapping my view of the forest. It's as if my own vision has become a screen.
Translucent lines of pale light form a rectangular display. The text is crisp and unnaturally steady in the dark. I do not know how I can read this—these symbols and words mean nothing to me, yet somehow I understand them. The knowledge unfolds in my mind as if it were always there, unlocked in this moment. Each word carries a cold, indifferent clarity. The voice that speaks these words in my head is monotone, emotionless.
SYSTEM: Essence absorption complete. Vitality restored.
A column of text unfurls before me, lines of pale light listing information:
[Basic Status]
Name: [None]
Race: Unknown
Level: 1
Essence: 1
Strength: 12
Agility: 9
Endurance: 11
Environment: Floor 1 (Forest)
Threat Level: Low
I stare in wonder. These are words and numbers that somehow define me: Name: [None], Race: Unknown, and those numerical attributes. Nameless. Unknown. A reanimated nothing given form. I truly am a nobody. And yet, I now possess knowledge—this strange system's assessment of my being.
A small blinking indicator hovers next to the line Essence: 1 on the display. It seems to draw my attention. The moment I focus on it, the text shifts: new lines materialize beneath the attributes, as if offering a choice.
Distribute Essence (1):
Strength: 12 -> 13
Agility: 9 -> 10
Endurance: 11 -> 12
I don't fully understand, but some part of me grasps what it means. I can use this "essence" to improve myself. My hand, moving of its own curiosity, reaches out and touches the glowing word Strength. The moment my clawed finger passes through the projection, I feel a jolt deep in my core. The display flickers: the Strength value shifts from 12 to 13, and the Essence count drops from 1 to 0.
A rush of raw power blooms in my muscles—brief but notable. I flex my fingers and exhale slowly. The mechanical voice speaks again, flat and indifferent, yet I sense a note of finality.
SYSTEM: Attribute allocation complete.
The glowing panel remains hovering in my sight. I stand there in the darkness of the forest, my breathing slowing as I absorb what has just occurred. My eyes scan the words that define me. Name: [None]. Race: Unknown. A blank identity on display. I am a reanimated nothing, now something. I don't know who or what I was before, but this System—whatever it may be—has given me a path forward, a means to grow.
The cold night air swirls around me, carrying the scents of damp earth and blood. Above, the twin moons cast pale shafts of light through the canopy, illuminating the clearing and the corpse at my feet. Yet I feel only the warmth of newfound strength coursing through my limbs. In the silence, I watch the translucent display flicker, the System waiting with patient, emotionless indifference for my next move. And for the first time since my awakening, I feel a glimmer of purpose in this emptiness.