Chapter 1: The Hunger and the System

Chapter 1: The Hunger and the System

Darkness.

Cold.

And a hunger so profound it felt like the universe had been carved out from his center, leaving only a screaming void.

He—it—awoke to the rough, chilling press of stone against its back. There was no memory of a name, a life, or a time before this all-consuming emptiness. There was only the damp, loamy scent of ancient earth and decay, and the gnawing ache that was less an appetite and more a fundamental law of its new existence.

Its eyes snapped open, but the darkness remained absolute. It tried to take a breath and felt no air enter lungs that didn't seem to exist. Yet, it was alive. A strange, cold life, thrumming with a terrible, nascent energy.

The hunger pulsed, a ravenous drumbeat against the silence. Eat. Feed. Consume. The command wasn't a thought, but an instinct so deeply embedded it was the only truth it knew.

It pushed with its hands. They scraped against stone, the sound echoing in the claustrophobic space. A lid. It was in a box. A cage of granite. The obstacle was insignificant compared to the void in its belly. With a low groan that sounded like grinding rock, it flexed muscles it didn't know it had. The strength that answered its call was shocking, alien. The heavy stone lid, weighing hundreds of pounds, shifted.

Cracks of grey moonlight pierced the blackness. The air that seeped in was cold and carried the scent of wet grass and distant rain. It was the smell of a world waiting to be devoured. With a final, explosive shove, the granite slab scraped aside and toppled onto a stone floor with a deafening crash.

It sat up, limbs moving with a stiff, unused grace. It was in a small, stone room, a crypt. The moonlight spilled through an iron-grilled door, barring the way to the outside. Beyond the bars, a sprawling landscape of tilting headstones and skeletal trees slumbered under a sliver of a moon. A cemetery.

The hunger sharpened, honed by the promise of the world beyond the door. It reached out, its long, pale fingers wrapping around the rusted iron bars. It pulled. The metal shrieked in protest, bending, warping, until the lock burst from its ancient moorings. The door swung open.

Freedom.

Stepping out onto the damp earth, it looked down at itself for the first time. The body was a gaunt, skeletal frame covered in taut, pearlescent skin that seemed to drink the moonlight. Its clothes were rotted tatters that fell away as it moved, revealing a form that was vaguely humanoid but utterly wrong. It saw its reflection in a murky puddle on a tombstone. The face was hollow-cheeked, the mouth a lipless slash, but the eyes… the eyes were the most terrible. They held no warmth, no flicker of a soul, only a faint, predatory glow of cold blue light.

This was not the body of a man. This was the vessel of the hunger.

As this realization settled, a shimmer of blue light flickered into existence in its field of vision. It was a translucent screen, composed of letters and symbols it somehow understood.

[Necrotic Evolution System Activated]

[Host Designation: Progenitor Unit-01]

[Status: Malnourished. Structural Integrity at 34%.]

[Objective: Acquire Biomass to Initiate First Evolution.]

The words were alien, yet their meaning was perfectly clear. Biomass. The word resonated with the hunger, giving it a name. The system was a map, and the destination was satiation.

Then, it heard them.

Voices. Coarse, tired, and alive.

“…another one in the old quarter. Swear this whole section’s cursed,” one man grumbled. His voice was thick with exhaustion.

“Just get it done, Frank. The sooner we fill this hole, the sooner I can get to a beer,” a younger voice replied.

Two shapes moved between the tombstones, their flashlight beams cutting jittery paths through the darkness. They carried shovels. Gravediggers. They were mortals, fragile and warm. They were walking, talking bundles of life.

They were Biomass.

The Progenitor sank into the shadow of a large mausoleum, its movements unnaturally silent. Its new body was a perfect tool for the hunt. The system’s interface remained in its vision, a faint blue glow overlaying the world. As it focused on the two men, new text appeared, highlighting them in a soft, ethereal outline.

[Human - Grade F Biomass] [Nutritional Value: Low] [Threat Level: Negligible]

Negligible. The word was a permission slip.

Frank, the older one, leaned on his shovel, wiping sweat from his brow despite the chill. “I hate this part of Blackwood. Always feels like something’s watchin’ you.”

“It’s the dead, Frank. They’re supposed to watch,” the younger one, Jimmy, chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Come on, let’s just…”

Jimmy’s words died in his throat. He’d turned his flashlight towards the open crypt, its heavy stone door lying shattered on the ground. “Frank… did we do that?”

Frank turned, his face paling in the beam of his own light. “No… That door ain’t been opened in a century.”

Fear. It was a new scent on the air, more intoxicating than the wet earth. It was the spice that seasoned the meal.

The Progenitor moved. It didn't run; it flowed through the shadows, a wraith of pale skin and cold purpose. It covered the thirty feet between the mausoleum and the gravediggers in the space of three heartbeats.

Frank saw it first—a flicker of movement, a glimpse of glowing blue eyes in the dark. He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound never came. The Progenitor’s arm lashed out. It hadn’t noticed the change until now, the way the fingers of its right hand had elongated into three obsidian claws, sharp as surgical steel. They sliced through the air with a faint hiss.

The claws raked across Frank’s throat. The sound was wet and final. He dropped his shovel with a clang, clutching at the ruin of his neck before slumping to the ground, his lifeblood a dark stain on the grass.

Jimmy stood frozen for a second, his mind unable to process the horror. Then, pure animal terror took over. He screamed, a raw, piercing shriek that shattered the cemetery's silence. He turned to run, fumbling, tripping over the loose dirt.

He didn't get two steps. The Progenitor was on him, a blur of silent motion. It slammed him to the ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Jimmy stared up into those cold, blue, soulless eyes, his body trembling uncontrollably.

The hunger was a roaring inferno now, demanding to be fed. The Progenitor leaned down, its lipless mouth opening far wider than any human jaw should.

And then the system chimed again, a soft, melodic sound that was grotesquely out of place.

[Biomass Acquired. Total: 2]

[Consume to Initiate Evolution? (Y/N)]

It didn’t need to think. Its entire being screamed a single, definitive answer. Yes.

A strange, spectral energy, invisible to the naked eye, began to leach from the two corpses. It wasn't blood or flesh it consumed, but something deeper—their life force, their very essence. The energy flowed into the Progenitor, a torrent of agonizing, ecstatic power.

Its bones cracked and reformed. Its skin split and tore as something harder, darker, pushed its way through from underneath. Its right arm was now completely encased in a black, chitinous plating, the claws lengthening further. The pain was excruciating, but the feeling of the void being filled was a pleasure beyond comprehension.

[Evolution Complete!]

[Chitinous Plating (Right Arm) Acquired] [Claws of the Grave Acquired] [Status: Stable. Structural Integrity at 85%] [New Objective: The weak feed the strong. Evolve further.]

It stood up, flexing its newly armored hand. The hunger was no longer a debilitating pain, but a deep, resonant hum—a baseline craving for more. It felt stronger, faster, deadlier.

In the far distance, a new sound cut through the night. A wailing siren, growing steadily closer. Jimmy's scream had not gone unheard.

The Progenitor looked towards the cemetery gates, then back at the city lights glowing beyond the trees. The crypt was a birthplace. The graveyard, a nursery. But the world beyond… the world was a hunting ground. And it was time for the first hunt.