Ah. [Human Slayer], huh? How fitting. It's only natural this turned out to be my reward for killing someone. Only thing better would've been [Murderer]. Though if I had to guess, it doesn't work if you're already a monster. That would be a bit too redundant. Not that there's any difference between a slayer or a murderer, technically, but a slayer of something sounds more appetizing. Like a valiant hero vanquishing evil? Or in my case, a monster defeating humans? What kind of twisted irony is that? A monster that, only a little while ago, sought death, only to bring it upon the humans that hold it captive.

"And somehow, I've nearly forgotten that I did want to die."

At any rate, it's been awhile since then. Although that man's death didn't bother me in itself, it didn't leave me entirely unaffected. At the very least, most of my time was spent on reflection, not necessarily about him, but myself. Put simply, and unsurprisingly, nothing could really catch me off guard at this point. And that's what bothered me.

"I'm sure I would've cared before I died."

Chalking it up to a change in my physiology felt too shallow, and yet that's all I can think of. Adrenaline usually kicks in during extreme trauma, and a overwhelming surge of other hormones can sometimes catch the unwary in even worse. Not that I could have a panic attack like I am now. Can't breathe to do so.

But if that's the case, doesn't our fear boil down to just that? The human body reacts to the things it fears, instinctually or through experience. A fear of doing evil, for example, is simply fearing the repercussions of doing said evil. When one man stands above another, that always happens. It's one of the reasons civilization came to be.

What about myself? Where's my fear? As the only one of my kind, without the inhibitions of bodily functions? Assuming I am, in fact, the only one. Where's my guilt for what I've done, as... this thing?

None. There is none. Unlike them, there isn't anyone like me who can say that I'm wrong. So then, considering it from a human's perspective, would someone hold it against a predator to devour it's prey, even if it did it without necessity? Or perhaps, without being aware of it?

On the other hand...

"That's just an argument in bad faith, as someone who was once a human. Can't complain though, since I'm the one making said argument."

The whole mess just hammered home that I wasn't myself anymore, and that irked me more than anything else. I can't fully grasp what I was like before. Can't remember. But enough of that.

As mentioned previously, some time had passed since the man died and the woman brought those people to safety. So much that I wound up counting the seconds in my head... or whatever served as that. Not counting the time I hadn't kept track of, I made it to somewhere close to five-hundred thousand. So... around a week had come and gone without anything of note, or any contact with anyone.

Remarkable tenacity, I must say. I wouldn't have had the patience to do something so trivial if I wasn't stuck in that ruined cell, in this form. Such is the way of boredom. It was between that or staring at the ceiling, or whatever wall suited my fancy if the ceiling failed to entertain.

Since I didn't have anything else to do besides count, and partly because I grew tired of it, I recalled the little details of the room on the other side of the cell. I'm curious as to what the pipes below the floor carry. It looked so similar to what was in my birth tank, or what I've come to refer to my first home. I would've investigated the exposed pipe further, but it was on the other side of that wall of rubble.

"Oh, I do have that, don't I?"

Out it plopped with an awkward undulation of my body. It's still here, even after what they did to me. Still as pink and vivid as ever, this little drop of fluid. It's useless now, since it doesn't appear I need it for nourishment. Not since I've been out of my birth tank for nearly a week, and also due to my most recent discovery... that monster had to have tasted bad, right? Can't remember a thing about it though.

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"There's nothing much to it other than this strange warping effect..."

Just as it did in my birth tank, I couldn't see through the little drop because of that phenomena, even the air around it bent in a bizarre lensed bubble. Beyond that, I couldn't work anything else out. With less than a pittance of new information gained from taking it out, I decided to put it back inside myself to deal with later.

Nearing the six-hundred thousand second milestone, they returned. The door opened, and the woman along with those from before filed through, carrying ornately carved rods with them. Other than their fearless leader, who didn't carry one of her own, everyone tried their best to keep as much distance been us as possible. I could see the terror glinting in their eyes. Not a single one's knuckles weren't tightly clenched around the weapons they pointed at me. Curious things with colored gems affixed at their points. I suppose they're this world's equivalent of a firearm? If it shot fire balls or similar ejecta, they would certainly fit the bill.

Bringing up the rear glowered a familiar face. Leading behind him one of those floating carts, the mixed look of fear and rage turned toward me as soon as he entered the cell, head wrapped in gauze over the burned spot on his head gave the very obvious impression that I managed to land on that red head's bad side.

Looking at his bandages, I imagined this world had sorceries used to heal people, but considering how they didn't save the one I killed, maybe they're restricted to conventional treatments for most injuries.

"Was he friends with that man? That would explain the death stare." Either that or his vanity outstripped his sympathy for others. I'd be more interested if he only looked at me that way because of his missing hair, honestly.

With a few swift swishes of the woman's hands, another bubble materialized around me, which deposited me inside the cart. Simple on the inside, a metallic shell and a heavily reinforced, sealed hatch on the front blocked any egress or vision on my part. The only part about it that really stood out had to be the presence of the pink fluid's effects. I'd imagine it would be a nauseating experience in here if I had a stomach. Pretty sure that's the top below me, and the floor to my side... scratch that, I can't tell what's up or down.

This fact did, however, support an incomplete theory I've been working on about the substance. It's multipurpose, found within or without the structure of this place, and appeared to have an aberrative effect only on myself, albeit it had to be within close proximity or substantial intensity to have a noticeable effect on my senses. I assumed that last part. It's either that, or the denizens of this place are simply used to it, which is highly unlikely.

If I had to compare it to something, it's as versatile as oil or similar fuel products, according to the varied places I've witnessed its application.

"It looks like we've stopped."

An abrupt halt tugged me toward the hatch at the front end of the cart. Wherever our destination was, we had finally arrived.

"Don't tell me, is it more masks? I've had enough with the last one."

A few moments later, the hatch swung open.

On the outside sat yet another room, similar to the one before from what I could see. Only -how should I put it, better furnished. Not with furniture, of course, but better equipped for the kind of thing I am.

From here on, I will be brief. Because the days that passed from the moment they brought me to this room, to the years they held me there, differed little in content. Of note, my birth tank was there. I recognized the displays, the cabling. It's definitely the same one. A far sturdier metal barrier protected those men, no window at all.

Upon bringing me here, the woman rarely visited. Only the people who fed me to that creature ever did. When they didn't need me, my time was spent in the tank, flopping around or thinking, usually about nothing. But when they did, I was let out via remote control, and whenever I didn't go back inside, well, I'd be forcibly put back via floating bubble.

And when I was let out...

It began with another of those creatures. Much like the last one, it bounded toward me from its cart with much the same intention as its predecessor did. It didn't realize that its lunch, that being myself, wasn't on the menu, and that fact gave me an opportunity to explore my newfound abilities.

"Voice, how do I use one of these skills?"

[Notice: Invoke the corresponding skill's moniker to activate its effects.]

"I see. Well... could you tell me how to fight this thing?"

[Notice: The use of Predation is advised.]

"That's it?"

[Notice: Conditional execute of the target is not possible at this time.]

"Could you be more specific?"

[Notice: Target's vitality is above 10% of its maximum. The use of Predation will result in a 100% chance of failure.]

"What about if I use it from the inside like I did before?"

[Notice: Probability of success increases to 20% in that scenario.]

"..."

That's all history now. I think I've absorbed as many different creatures, varied in shape and size, as I did the number of days in those three years. That might've continued forever, for all I knew. But I suppose I'm not destined for an eternity of this, am I?