The Monarch.
That title again, the one that had appeared when he’d first evolved into the pri Genus.
He had no idea what it was, so entity or force that his powers were connected to, that grew stronger as he grew stronger? Whichever it was, seeing the notification that his bond with it was growing stronger, Akhil couldn’t help but be worried.
He still didn’t understand what it ant, and he could only hope it wasn’t what he was thinking.
The pain was ebbing now, not gone but manageable, fading from unbearable to rely excruciating. Akhil lay on the platform gasping, his new white skin slick with sweat that looked almost luminous against the pale background, his lengthened hair spread around his head like a dark halo.
He could feel the power coursing through him. Not just the restored blood essence, though that was substantial. Sothing deeper—a fundantal change to what he was, what his body could do, what limits he no longer had.
But he was also profoundly disoriented.
Every sound was too loud. Every color too vivid. His own heartbeat a drum in his ears that drowned out thought. The sensation of his clothes against his transford skin almost painful in its clarity.
He tried to focus, to center himself, but the world was too much, too present, too overwhelmingly real.
Sowhere distant—though with his enhanced hearing it felt right next to him—Nyla was still calling his na. Her voice carried layers he’d never heard before: the love and fear and desperation of a sister watching her brother transform into sothing she didn’t recognize.
And not just her. Through the chaos of enhanced perception, he could hear other voices. Nibo’s deep rumble, Ryan’s higher pitch, Aria’s worried tone. His teammates, his companions, the people who’d fought beside him and trusted him and now watched with expressions that his new vision could read with uncomfortable clarity.
Worry, yes. But also fear.
They were afraid of him.
Of what he was becoming.
Of what he’d just done—absorbed another being’s essence like so kind of predator, transford in ways that shouldn’t be possible, grown pale and strange and other.
Akhil tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t respond properly. Too much input, too many signals, his nervous system reorganizing itself on the fly and not quite finished with the process.
He managed to get to his hands and knees, gasping, his vision swimming with colors that didn’t have nas.
The Blood Fang lay nearby, and when he looked at it with his new sight, he could see things he’d never noticed before—the intricate patterns of blood vessels that comprised the blade, the way it pulsed with its own heartbeat, the connection between it and him rendered visible as threads of crimson light.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
Everything was beautiful and terrifying and too much.
Akhil’s head felt like it was splitting open, the influx of information exceeding his brain’s capacity to process. He could hear conversations happening fifty feet away with perfect clarity. Could see the individual fibers in the clothes of fighters on distant platforms. Could taste the iron in his own mouth and sll the copper scent of spilled blood—his and Najim’s both—and feel the texture of stone beneath his palms with resolution that detected individual grains.
The pain was fading.
The transformation was complete.
But Akhil, kneeling on the platform in his new white skin with his new dark hair and his new impossible senses, had never felt less human in his life.
And almost as though to confirm his thoughts a notification sprung up from the system.
{You have Evolved!}
{Genus Monarch}
{You have acquired a new skill: ???}
’What’s this feeling?’ he felt like a stranger within his own body.
Like he had been tossed into an entirely new body, and left to explore.
But he could instantly tell the difference, his control of blood had improved so drastically, just looking at Nyla who was running straight at him it felt as though the blood within her body belonged to him... Like he could...
He raised his hands gently, Nyla stopped in her track completely unable to move, she stared in confusion.
"Akhil?" She quickly noticed his gaze on her, but sothing felt wrong.
The crowd quickly burst into whispers wondering what was happening.
But Akhil’s eyes turned into sharp slits, like that of a beast waiting to pounce on its prey. A feral hunger visible in his eye.
’Blood my blood... Blood, more blood’
He made a simple gesture with his fingers and Nylai feets slowly rose up from the ground.
"A...Akhil w-what are you doing?" Nyla asked with struggling breath, barely able to control her body.
"Akhil!" Nibo’s voice bood from the side, the sharp sound instantly snapping him out of his trance.
He quickly put down his hand, "I’m sorry... I lost it for a few seconds"
"What happened to you? Was it the monarch again?"
"The monarch?" Akhil paused for a long mont, yes he could say it was the monarch.... But right now, that wasn’t the case at all.
He knew sowhere within him, that wasn’t the monarch, that was him. He could feel the hunger for blood growing within him, but it wasn’t just him who noticed this.... sowhere in the divine realm above, gods who had been cheering his victory fell silent as they watched him change, their comntary shifting from celebration to sothing else entirely.
Sothing that recognized what was happening.
Sothing that understood what he was becoming.
The silence was shattered as the first God spoke up.
[God Poloneus: No. No, that’s not—]
[Goddess Vaydrix: The white skin. The transformation. The endless consumption. That’s—]
[DaylithNight: THE MONARCH’S VESSEL.]
[Goddess Jayne: We sealed him. We KILLED him. How is his vessel here? How is he—]
[Unknown: You didn’t kill him. You never could. You only delayed him. And now he’s found a new host.]
The divine channel, which had been a steady stream of comntary and wagers and entertainnt, devolved into chaos. Gods who had been cheerfully watching mortals fight for their amusent were now transmitting in overlapping bursts of alarm and anger and sothing that approached genuine fear.
[God Poloneus: The blood absorption. That’s how the Monarch worked. Every kill made him stronger. Every drop consud added to his power. And this vessel—he’s been doing it from the beginning, hasn’t he?]
[Goddess Vaydrix: We’ve been watching him evolve. We gave him gifts. We ENCOURAGED this. We’ve been feeding the Monarch’s return.]
[DaylithNight: The system. The tournant. Was any of this real or was it all—]
[Unknown: Does it matter? He exists now. The vessel is awakening. And he will consu everything if we don’t stop him.]
[Goddess Jayne: How do we stop sothing we couldn’t kill the first ti? The Monarch doesn’t die. He just finds new hosts, grows stronger, evolves without limit. That’s WHY we sealed him instead of—]
[God Poloneus: The other players. The fighters. They have to kill him before he fully awakens.]
A pause. A collective understanding settling through the divine realm like frost.
[Goddess Vaydrix: You want mortals to do what gods couldn’t?]
[God Poloneus: The Monarch feeds on divine power. Every god who fought him only made him stronger. But mortals—mortals are beneath his natural predation. They might be able to—]
[Unknown: Or they’ll all die and he’ll consu their blood anyway. But at least it’s a chance.]
The divine consensus ford with terrible speed, the kind of unity that only ca when faced with sothing that threatened existence itself.
...
Akhil was still on his hands and knees, trying to process the overwhelming influx of sensation, when the notification arrived. Not just in his vision but in everyone’s—every fighter on every platform, every spectator watching screens throughout the settlent, every player connected to the system.
The text appeared in blood-red letters that pulsed with each word:
{SYSTEM ANNOUNCENT}
{The Strength of the Monarch grows...}
{He who will consu the entire world grows stronger.}
{Kill the Monarch and save your world.}
Akhil’s enhanced vision read the words with perfect clarity even through the chaos of his transforming senses. Each letter was sharp, defined, impossible to miss or misunderstand.
And below it, a second notification, this one private, appearing only in his field of view:
{You are the Vessel of the Monarch}
{Current Awakening Progress: 23%}
{Consu more to accelerate evolution}
{Warning: All players have been designated as hostile to the Vessel}
The arena went silent.
Not the anticipatory silence of before a fight or the shocked silence after a spectacular display. This was the silence of a thousand people simultaneously understanding sothing terrible.
Akhil felt every eye turn toward him.
Nyla’s glowing blue gaze from the adjacent platform, still carrying worry but now tinged with confusion. Nibo’s dark eyes, wide with dawning comprehension. The other fighters scattered across their platforms, weapons suddenly gripped tighter, stances shifting from casual to combat-ready.
And beyond the arena, through the screens broadcasting to the entire settlent—Ryan’s face going pale as he read the notification. Aria’s hand moving to her weapon. Every teammate, every ally, every person who’d fought beside him or worked with him or simply existed in proximity to him, now looking at him with the sa expression.
The expression of people who’d just been told their companion was the enemy.
The world’s enemy.
Sothing that needed to be killed.
He was the final boss.
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