The night was alive with the scent of blood and the thrill of the hunt. I had quenched my hunger by going after small prey. Each one was nothing more than a passing blur of primal instinct—chasing, hunting, devouring. In total, six kills: two rabbits, three snakes, and a boar. Each life snuffed out only barely dulled the edge of my gnawing hunger, but it was enough.

Enough to get me through the night. The metallic tang of blood still clung to my lips, my fangs stained red. I’d lost count of how many bites I took and how many bones I crushed between these sharp, brutal teeth.

If I were still human, the thought alone would have made me retch. The act of tearing raw flesh and swallowing it whole—raw, bloody, and still warm—would have turned my stomach. But now… now I felt nothing. The more I devoured, the more it sank in: this is my new reality. This isn’t a nightmare that I can wake up from. This isn’t some twisted dream. This is the truth. Unforgiving, brutal truth.

I am a monster.

I let that fact simmer in my mind. It was almost laughable how quickly everything had changed. Last night, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the stream had nearly driven me mad. The horror of seeing that hideous green face, those feral eyes staring back at me. I had been on the verge of a breakdown, hands shaking, stomach in knots, refusing to accept what was staring back at me. But now? Now I felt nothing. That grotesque visage no longer fazed me. My eyes no longer flinched at the sight of that twisted face in the water. No more quivering hands. No more denial.

This body… it isn’t so bad.

I didn’t want to admit it, but there was power here. Something raw and primal. Something that hummed beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. My eyes could pierce through the darkness, spotting prey that would have been invisible to my human self. My claws, sharp and deadly, could tear through flesh like paper. And my fangs? Strong enough to crush bones with ease. Even the filth-ridden water I drank, which would have made me violently ill as a human, did nothing to me now.

This body thrives in what would have once destroyed me. Filth, rot, decay—this form embraced it all.

It’s efficient. It's powerful. But it’s not human.

I slumped against a tree, the bark rough against my skin, letting the shade cool my body. My mind was in turmoil, torn between the primal urges that clawed at me from within and the lingering traces of who I used to be.

What now? What future is there for a monster like me? I don’t want to be reduced to this… to a life lived as a beast. But the longer I sit here, the more I feel it. The gnawing, insidious whisper at the edges of my mind. The urge to survive. To hunt. To eat.

If I stay like this, I’ll lose myself. The thought gnawed at me like a festering wound. If I let the beast inside take over, there won’t be anything left of who I was. I’ll become nothing more than a hollow shell. A mindless creature, consumed by the same primal instincts that rule the wild. It reminded me of a story I’d once read—of a man who had been cursed to live as a bear. In the end, he lost himself completely, his mind swallowed by the beast’s instincts. He forgot who he was, lost to the wild.

I refuse to let that happen to me.

I need a plan. Something to cling to. A way back, if there even is one. And then I remembered the goblin I had met earlier. It had spoken—rudimentary, yes, but it spoke. There was intelligence there, crude though it may have been. And where there is language, there is society. If I can find more of them, perhaps I can find answers. Maybe there’s a way to reverse this… a way back to being human.

Just as I was starting to resolve myself to seek them out, a chill crawled down my spine. My instincts flared to life, and before I even realized it, I had leaped into the nearest bush, every nerve in my body screaming danger. My heart pounded in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears. I stayed still, holding my breath. Listening.

Then, faint but clear, a low growl. Not from any prey I had encountered. The air around me seemed to thicken with an oppressive weight. Something dangerous was nearby. The rustle of leaves grew closer, and then—out from the shadows stepped a beast that sent fear coursing through my veins.

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A wolf. But not just any wolf. This one was massive, far larger than any animal I had ever seen. Its silver fur gleamed in the moonlight, every ripple of its muscles visible under its sleek coat. Eyes, sharp and glowing with an unnatural light, scanned the forest with predatory focus.

My body froze, trembling uncontrollably as I watched the creature. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs refused to obey. This was no ordinary predator. This wolf was an apex hunter, and I could feel it in my bones: I was the prey. The unspoken law of the wild rippled through me, and I knew immediately where I stood.

The silver wolf moved with a deadly grace, its movements silent, each step calculated. It sniffed the air, then paused, its head tilting ever so slightly. I held my breath, praying to whatever gods still listened that it wouldn’t find me. But it wasn’t after me. It was hunting something else. Something bigger.

An orc burst from the bushes nearby, a massive, boar-headed brute that looked both panicked and enraged. It let out a guttural roar, swinging its crude weapon wildly, but it was no match for the wolf. With terrifying speed, the wolf lunged, a blur of silver fur and muscle.

In an instant, the orc was pinned to the ground. It struggled, kicking and flailing, but the wolf’s fangs found their mark. A sickening crunch echoed through the forest as its jaws closed around the orc’s skull. The brute’s roars turned into gurgles as blood and brain matter spilled out. The wolf tore into its prey without hesitation, devouring the orc piece by piece as if it were nothing more than a casual meal.

I wanted to scream, to run, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, every muscle locked in place as I watched the scene unfold. My heart raced, my mind reeling. I’m next, I thought. This is where I die. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the silver wolf moved on, disappearing into the shadows, leaving only the mangled remains of the orc behind.

I didn’t waste any time. The moment I could move, I bolted. My legs pumped, my breath ragged and my mind barely able to keep up with the rush of fear and adrenaline. I needed to get away. I needed to survive.

By the time I reached the goblin den, I was gasping for air. The dark hole in the ground loomed before me, unwelcoming, but I couldn’t hesitate. I needed help. I needed information. I needed something. Anything.

"Gigigu...Gagah..." The words that left my mouth were guttural, incoherent. But it didn’t matter. After a moment, the same goblin from before emerged from the den, its eyes narrow and filled with suspicion.

“Hunt,” it grunted, pointing to its mouth.

I stared at it, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. I am no longer human. But if I want to survive in this world, I’ll have to learn how to live as one of them.

.....

I passed the rabbit to the goblin tied to my waist with a flexible branch, quietly observing the differences between us. Only a night had passed, I had grown—not just in body but in spirit. The goblin glanced at the rabbit with disinterest and disappeared into the den. I hesitated, unsure if I should follow. But before I could decide, it returned, its face twisted with urgency.

"Come! Enemy, coming!"

Without warning, it yanked me by the arm, dragging me inside the den with a force that surprised me. I cried out as pain shot through my shoulder. It didn't care—this creature had no intentions of being gentle.

I stumbled into a room cluttered with crude weapons. My heart pounded as I realized what this was: an armory. The goblin didn’t need to explain; it wanted me to arm myself. I frantically scanned the room. Everything was worn, broken, or barely resembling a weapon. My hands trembled as I weighed my options—a club? A picket? A rusted farming tool?

Nothing felt right. Nothing felt human.

I picked up the club, its rough wood was unfamiliar in my grip. It wasn’t the elegant blade or spear I had dreamed of wielding in some fantasy. It was primal, brutal—like everything in this world. I swallowed hard, forcing the panic down. This was no time for hesitation.

"Come," the goblin commanded.

We left the armory, my feet moving on autopilot as I followed the creature. The adrenaline pulsing through me masked the growing fear gnawing at my insides. The surface world greeted us with the remnants of dusk, a heavy, suffocating stillness in the air.

"Hurry," the goblin growled, urging me forward.

It drove me relentlessly, dragging me through the forest until we arrived at an abandoned village—or at least, it appeared to be. Shadows lurked at the edges of my vision, shapes squirming and shifting. What are those?

I blinked, my mind slow to process. Goblins. Dozens of them, all gathered around a central figure. At the center stood one that towered over the rest, its skin a deep red, its eyes gleaming with cruelty. I was yanked forward again, and the red goblin’s gaze locked onto me.

"King, come. This, pipsqueak," the goblin at my side grunted.

I was being presented like livestock. My chest tightened with an anger I hadn’t felt since waking up in this cursed body. As the red goblin’s gaze fell on me, I saw nothing but contempt. There was no acknowledgment of shared kinship, no understanding. Just superiority. Like I was something less than dirt beneath its feet.

"You, last. Slow one, give punishment," the red goblin sneered.

Punishment? For what? For being slow? For being… weak?

Before I could react, the goblin next to me pinned me down. I struggled, panic flaring, but I was no match for its strength. The red goblin stepped closer, its mouth twisting into a sadistic grim.

"Me, gentle. Will not kill you," it mocked.

Then, without warning, the club came down. Pain exploded through my back as I screamed. My muscles seized, my limbs convulsing as blow after blow landed. The red goblin’s laughter rang in my ears, its eyes filled with sadistic glee. Each strike sent another wave of agony through me, and yet…

Yet something within me refused to break.

As it raised the club again, I caught its gaze. For the first time, I looked directly into those eyes. Eyes that looked down on me like I was nothing. It was the look of someone who believed they would always be on top, the look of someone who thought they could crush anything beneath them with impunity.

And that’s when it happened.

A spark of something—familiar, dangerous—ignited in me. Not the primal fear that had driven me so far, not the urge to survive that had guided my every step. No, this was different. This was hatred.

I’ll kill you.

The thought came unbidden, but it was as clear as day. I will kill you.