I was in a white sterile room, with many machines, next to me.
I was now inside a hospital, getting medical treatment. I had to stay here until it was reasonable for me to leave.
A blue screen materialized in front of me. Dying my world blue, as I had seen the question that was in front of me.
[Would u like to reactivate Orc's Active skill: Blessing of blood?]
Y/N
[Blessing of Blood: Active]
[Current Passive Regeneration: 340% above baseline]
I had clicked yes as I got up from the bed.
The IV drip was still in my arm, I pulled it out, and a small bead of blood welled up at the puncture spot, and then it closed like a zipper.
Right, I had forgotten that I was a cockroach that existed to be almost unkillable.
orcs, the body type I had received, they were always known to have strength beyond belief, and breeding abilities beyond norm, they always regenerated in unusual ways, and always fought in packs.
They were always an undesirable species to fight against, as they would outnumber you.
And don't get me started on the unquenchable hunger they had.
grr!!!
My stomach was a clear protest to that. I had already eaten 4 meals, but I still wanted more.
I got dressed in the spare clothes that Ai had given me. She had only appeared for an hour, but she did come to check up on me.
It was a plain grey hoodie, Black joggers, and unremarkable sneakers. it was as if this was the universal, "Please don't look at me." Outfit in a city like this.
People had different hair colors than normal, Black Hair, Orange hair, Purple, it was all normal here tho. nobody question it. because it was just how it was.
But I had known that, as Kuoh was not a normal City.
I had known that since I had figured out the world I had landed in.
I folded the hospital gown neatly onto the bed. As I made my way outwards until I met the cityscape.
It was time i begun walking home, I had nothing to do today. school wasnt today, as it was still the weekend. And my next shift was in 3 days.
So I decided to lounge around, there wasn't anything better to do today anyway, as I arrived at my home. But I wanted to see her again. I missed her....
But there was also something else that was constant inside my head.
Hunger, the hunger gnawed at me, a hollow ache that had nothing to do with my stomach. I walked out of my room and left my house; the cold air hit me like a truck.
The night was my blanket as I walked through the streets of Tokyo, my hoodie pulled up to conceal my face.
A woman passed by, her heels clicking a nervous rhythm on the pavement as she noticed me. Her perfume was a fleeting ghost - something floral and expensive, a stark contrast to the alley's damp decay.
I could hear her heartbeat accelerate. Smell the spike of fear in her sweat.
My Orc senses weren't just for show. They painted the world in layers of information most humans never perceived.
The city was a cacophony of scents: stale exhaust fumes, the sweet decay of garbage in a nearby bin, the faint, inviting aroma of grilled meat from a late-night izakaya, and underneath it all, the subtle, coppery tang of blood from the millions of hearts beating around me.
My stomach growled again, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated in my chest. It wasn't just hunger. It was a craving. A hollow ache that the four hospital meals had barely touched.
An old man shuffled past, clutching a paper bag. Inside, I could smell fresh, still-warm taiyaki. The sweet red bean paste and the crispy, pancake-like batter.
I found myself standing at the entrance of a nightclub, a throbbing bassline pulsing through the soles of my cheap sneakers
. The sign above the door, 'Elysium,' was written in a neon purple script that bled into the wet pavement. It was the kind of place I normally wouldn't be caught dead in, a den of fleeting connections and loud, meaningless noise.
But the hunger in my gut wasn't just for food anymore. It was a deeper, more primal ache, a buzzing under my skin that demanded an outlet.
It was lust.
Blessing of Procreation or not, I was still a teenager, and a cooped-up, nearly-died-recently teenager at that. The orcish instincts were screaming for something other than food.
The bouncer, a mountain of a man with a face that looked like it had been used to tenderize meat, glanced at my ID and then at me. He sized me up, a flicker of something—pity, maybe?—in his eyes before he unhooked the velvet rope. I slid him a crumpled bill, more for the hassle than anything, and stepped inside.
The air hit me like a physical wall: a thick, soupy mix of sweat, cheap perfume, spilled liquor, and something metallic underneath it all. The neon signs painted the streets in vibrant hues that clashed and danced in the humid night air.
The city pulsed with a life of its own, a rhythm that seemed to throb in my very bones. It was late, but Kuoh never truly slept.
The hunger was a gnawing beast in my gut, a primal demand that overshadowed everything. The hospital food had been a joke, a mere appetizer for the gluttonous furnace that was my new body.
I walked, letting the city's currents pull me along. The scents were a dizzying array—spicy ramen broths, sweet pastries, the cloying perfume of a gaggle of girls, and beneath it all, the metallic tang of blood from a butcher shop I passed. Each one was a siren's call to my stomach.
And then, a different kind of scent caught my attention, cutting through the noise like a knife. It wasn't food. It was something… richer. A complex aroma that promised a different kind of satiation. It was a mix of cherry blossoms and something more primal, a scent that spoke of strength and vitality, of power held in check. My head turned, my feet slowing, my hunter's instincts kicking in before I could even process the thought.
She was leaning against a wall under the glow of a pachinko parlor sign, its flashing lights painting her in shifting shades of pink and blue.
But I had no interest in her. Nor did i want to interact with her.
The streetlights painted the wet pavement in streaks of orange and white. A light drizzle had started, not enough to need an umbrella, but enough to make the world feel slick and reflective.
Each drop that hit my face was a small, cool shock. I pulled my hood up, disappearing further into the grey fabric.
The hunger was still there, a dull, persistent ache in my gut. Four meals, and it felt like I'd swallowed nothing but air. My body was a furnace, demanding fuel I couldn't seem to find enough of. I passed a ramen shop, the scent of broth and pork bone wafting out, a taunting promise of satisfaction. My stomach growled again, a low, primal sound. I kept walking.
A flash of neon caught my eye—a bar. "The Gilded Cage." The name was ironic, considering the freedom I craved. But the lights were warm, and more than that, I could feel a presence inside. Not a holy one. Not a devil's. Something... older. Earthier.
My feet stopped of their own accord. The hunger twisted, sharpening into something else.
I was just another Kuoh might have been a place of devils and angels, but the human city hummed with its own special kind of sin. I kept to the shadows, a phantom in a world that didn't know I existed.
My feet carried me without thought, a predator on the hunt, though what I was hunting for, I couldn't say.
That's when I heard it. A stumble, a choked sob, the scuffle of expensive heels on grimy pavement.
Down a narrow alley, choked with the stench of stale beer and forgotten garbage, was a tableau of urban decay.
A woman, impossibly beautiful even in disarray, was being cornered by three men. Her silver hair was a mess, her perfect face streaked with tears, her designer dress torn at the shoulder.
She was drunk, swaying on her feet, but her eyes—those twin stars that sold a millionI was hunting. Not for food, not anymore. My orc physiology demanded something more. A different kind of sustenance. I was drawn to the districts where the bright lights and the desperate hopes of the masses coalesced, where the city pulsed.
My feet carried me toward the entertainment districts, past neon signs that bled color onto the wet asphalt. The hunger was a compass, its needle spinning wildly before locking onto a direction that pulled me forward with an inexorable force.
Then I saw her.
Hoshino Ai.
She was stumbling out of a building, one of those sterile glass towers where the rich and powerful decided the fates of people they'd never meet. But the girl I saw wasn't the polished idol from the magazines and screens. She was a mess. Her clothes were disheveled, her usually perfect makeup was streaked with tears, and she moved with the drunken, disjointed grace of a puppet with its strings cut.
And the air around her... it was wrong. A miasma of something foul and cloying, a chemical tang that overlayed the sweet scent of her perfume. They had drugged her. Someone had slipped something into her drink, right in the middle of a meeting. It was intoxicating.
The hunger roared, a primal thing that screamed take. For a second, I saw myself moving, a blur of motion, her gasp, the warm spray... I took a deep breath, forcing the thoughts down. Not yet. Control.
"H-help me." The woman I knew was asking for help, and I was right there, watching as she was drugged, as they were about to make the move.
I moved at a speed unknown to them.
My hand had caught theirs. The person's entire arm stopped moving. I wasn't using my full strength, but I knew that they were definitely not going to be moving it for a while.
"Let go, you bastard!" The man with greasy hair and a cheap suit spat, his face turning an ugly shade of red.
His friends turned, their drunken bravado faltering as they got a proper look at me. I didn't look like much—a teenager in a grey hoodie and joggers. But my eyes, they must have seen something in my eyes. Something that wasn't human. Something that looked at them not as people, but as meat.
"I said, let go of her."
The man tried to pull free, his muscles straining, his face contorting in effort. My grip didn't budge. It was like a steel clamp. I could feel the small bones in his wrist grinding together.
The other two, recovering from their initial shock, decided to be brave. One swung a wild, clumsy punch at my head. I didn't even bother dodging. The fist connected with my jaw.
It was like hitting granite.
A sharp crack echoed in the alley, followed by a howl of pain. The man clutched his broken hand, stumbling back, his face a mask of disbelief and agony.
I tilted my head, looking at the first man, the one whose wrist I still held. I gave it a slight, almost gentle squeeze.
Another crack. A shriek. His wrist flopped at an unnatural angle.
I let him go. He cradled his arm to his chest, blubbering like a baby. The three of them stared at me, a monster in the shadows, and their drunken courage evaporated like puddles in the desert heat.
"Get out,"
They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled away, tripping over each other in their haste to escape, their terrified whimpers swallowed by the city's indifferent noise.
In my arms, there was a cute, pretty woman. I couldn't take her home, so the only way I thought of was booking a motel.
She was barely conscious, a dead weight against me. The chemical cocktail in her system was potent, an Aphrodisiac that would make any man lust after her.
Her body was burning hot, a feverish heat, as if her blood was boiling. The scent of her was maddening, a mix of cherry blossoms.
As we arrived at the motel, it looked nice; it was a rich motel, one that I guess was made for one-night stands.
I got the key from the tired-looking clerk, who barely glanced up from his magazine. The room was on the second floor. I kicked the door shut behind us, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.