Dust tasted like rusted iron and dead dreams. Apollo spat the grey grit onto the shattered concrete, his fingers tightening around the grip of his jagged metal pipe. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. Hunger, sharp and relentless, chewed at his stomach, a physical weight that had grown heavier with every passing hour. It wasn't a normal craving for bread or clean water. This was a deep, burning void in his chest, demanding something warm, something metallic, something alive. "Get a grip," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. Veins along his forearms pulsed with an unnatural, dark purple hue, throbbing in sync with his rapid heartbeat. Lately, his body had been changing in ways he couldn't control or explain. Fangs nudged against the inside of his lower lip, sharp enough to draw blood if he pressed too hard. His vision had sharpened too, turning the gloomy ruins of District Seven into a stark landscape of high-contrast red and grey. Becoming a monster was a terrifying prospect, but survival demanded sacrifices. Sometimes, the thought of what he was turning into terrified him to his core. Other times, when the memory of his screaming mother flashed in his mind, he didn't care what he became as long as it gave him the strength to kill. Animarium had once been a paradise of towering spires and vibrant ecosystems, a crown jewel in the galaxy. Devastation had followed when the Celestial Scourge arrived from the deep cosmos, shattering the planet's core and leaving behind a wasteland of toxic ash and mutated horrors. Now, survival was the only currency that mattered in this graveyard of humanity. A low, clicking sound echoed from a collapsed subway entrance nearby, shattering the silence of the dead city. Freezing in place, Apollo focused his senses on the dark opening, his heart hammering against his ribs. Heat signatures flared in his vision—multiple insectoid shapes moving quickly beneath the concrete slabs. "Perfect," he whispered, a savage smile tugging at his lips as the adrenaline began to flow. Hunting was the only time he felt truly alive anymore, the only time the pain subsided. --- Clicking noises grew louder, accompanied by the scraping of chitinous legs against rusted rebar. Four mutated Ash-Crawlers emerged from the darkness, their bloated, grey bodies covered in glowing orange veins. Each beast was the size of a wolf, equipped with scythe-like front legs and dripping mandibles. They sniffed the air, their multi-faceted eyes locking onto him with predatory focus. Instead of retreating, Apollo stepped forward, his posture loose and dangerous. He didn't have a rifle or a high-tech energy blade like the wealthy hunters in the upper districts. All he carried was a heavy, notched iron pipe he'd salvaged from an old engine block. But his real weapons were his hands, and the dark, surging energy waiting to be unleashed. With a deafening hiss, the lead crawler lunged, its legs kicking up a cloud of ash. Apollo waited until the last possible second, then sidestepped the attack with unnatural speed. His pipe swung downward, a brutal, two-handed strike that caught the beast right behind its head. Chitin cracked with a wet pop. Black, boiling fluid sprayed from the wound, sizzling as it dripped onto the dusty ground. A drop of the hot liquid landed on Apollo’s cheek, sending a searing shock of warmth through his skin. Sucking in a breath, he felt the liquid sink into his pores, delivering an instant, intoxicating rush of power. His eyes flared a vivid, predatory crimson, the hunger in his gut roaring to life. "Yes," he breathed, his teeth baring in a feral grin as he tasted the metallic tang on his lips. Hunger in his chest morphed into an insatiable demand for more of the dark essence. Before the remaining crawlers could react, Apollo threw himself into the pack. Savage instincts drove him to throw his weight into the second beast, slamming it to the ground. Crashing to the ground with his prey, he abandoned his pipe and drove his bare fingers straight through its cracked armor plates. Flesh tore under his grip, the bone-deep strength of his latent power manifesting in full force. Ichor welled up, coating his hands in a thick, metallic glove that felt warm and comforting. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped his lips as the sheer ecstasy of the kill washed over him. Every cell in his body screamed in triumph, absorbing the residual energy of the dying creature. For a precious second, the memories of his family’s burning bodies faded, replaced by the sheer thrill of dominance. He wanted more. Desire burned hot, demanding another sacrifice to keep the darkness at bay. --- Two remaining crawlers hissed in unison, sensing the sudden shift in the air. Predator and prey had swapped roles, and the beasts knew their lives were forfeit. They tried to back away, their many legs scrambling over the loose rubble. "Oh no, you don't," Apollo growled, his voice dropping to a low, echoing baritone that didn't sound human. Leaping across the gap, he caught the third crawler mid-retreat, his hands clamping around its primary mandibles. With a surge of raw, violent strength, he twisted his wrists. Sickening rip echoed through the ruins as he tore the beast's head completely off its shoulders. Fountains of black ichor drenched him, soaking through his tattered clothes. He welcomed the warmth, leaning into the spray with a desperate, starved gasp. Thirsty skin drank the fluid like parched earth absorbing rain. Power, thick and heavy, flowed into his muscles, expanding his veins and sharpening his senses even further. He could feel his own heartbeat, slow and powerful, driving the stolen energy deep into his core. Last crawler made a desperate break for the subway entrance, moving with frantic speed. Apollo watched it go, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. Running was useless against the hunger that now controlled him. In a single, explosive bound, he covered the distance, landing directly on the beast’s back. Heavy impact shattered its spine, pinning it to the dusty concrete. It writhed beneath him, clicking weakly as it tried to strike with its tail. Apollo pinned its head down with his boot, staring into its glowing orange eyes. "Tell your masters," he whispered, his voice dripping with venom, "that I'm coming for them next." He stomped down, crushing the creature's skull into a fine paste. Silent satisfaction washed over him as the final burst of energy seeped into his boots. Constant, agonizing ache of his unavenged past was gone, replaced by a temporary, beautiful numbness. Standing amidst the pile of twitching limbs and black puddles, he let out a long, ragged breath. His heart rate slowly began to decline, the crimson tint in his vision fading back to normal. But the peace never lasted long. He knew the hunger would return, stronger and more demanding than before. Every kill made him more powerful, but it also pushed him further away from the humanity he desperately tried to protect. "Is this what it takes?" he asked the empty sky, his voice cracking with emotion. No answer came from the silent, ash-choked heavens. Only the wind whistled through the hollow buildings, a lonely eulogy for a dead world. He looked down at his blood-soaked hands, feeling the dark power humming just beneath his skin. It felt monstrous. Magnificent sensations flooded his core, battling with the guilt. --- A faint glow caught his attention from the pile of disintegrating crawler carcasses. Dissolving carcasses were already turning to grey dust, leaving behind only the cold stone. At the center of the remains, a small, jagged crystal pulsed with a deep, ruby-red light. It was a beast crystal, packed with condensed qi and raw elemental energy. Apollo reached down, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up the warm stone. Instantaneous jolts shot up his arm upon contact, making his breath hitch. Hum and vibration came from the crystal, pulsing against his palm as if it possessed a heartbeat of its own. Suddenly, the wind seemed to stop entirely, plunging the ruins into a terrifying, absolute silence. As the last Crawler disintegrates into dust, a shimmering beast crystal drops, and a voice, cold and ancient, whispers in his mind: 'The blood calls, fledgling. Embrace the harvest.'

Chapter 1: Crimson Harvest