Chapter One: The Hunt (Revised)

Shadowy figures flickered through the alley, a group of unruly youths with hair so wild it could hardly be called anything but a bird’s nest, smoking and cursing as if they’d encountered some misfortune.

A stray dog moved with an odd gait, swift despite its awkward steps, and stopped before the youths. Its gaze was vacant, tongue lolling from its mouth, saliva dripping freely—a sight that carried an unsettling sense of horror.

One of them noticed the dog. “Why’s this mutt just standing here like an idiot?”

“Even the damn dog looks down on us now. Watch me take it down like Wu Song slaying a tiger.”

“Forget it, man. It might have rabies, by the look of it.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? Like it could bite me.”

A youngster, eager to show off, stepped forward. Twisting his body, he delivered a swift, precise kick—clearly practiced, and well-versed in tormenting stray animals.

The creature sneered inwardly, already deciding the fate of these carbon-based monkeys before it. The stray dog shifted slightly, dodging the bone-shattering kick, and leapt with all four paws, landing squarely at the youth’s groin.

The spot was every male’s weak point; proximity brought inevitable panic. Before the dog could bite, the youth stumbled to the ground, clutching his groin with both hands, kicking wildly in an attempt to drive the dog away.

But the creature, controlling the dog’s movements, pressed its paws onto the youth’s hands and lunged for his throat, making it impossible for him to grab and throw the animal aside.

Under the horrified stares of the group, the seemingly vacant stray revealed its savage nature.

The fragile cartilage of the throat was no match for canine jaws, especially those under its control. The youth struggled desperately, but the dog bit deeper and deeper, until the larynx was crushed and the esophagus and windpipe torn open.

The screams jolted his companions to action, scrambling to pull the dog away, but none realized this was their last chance to escape.

The youth convulsed, clearly beyond saving, while the entity quietly slipped from the now-empty mind of the stray, crawling through the torn throat and, as if it had done so countless times, ascended to the brain, settling within the human host.

The complexity of the human brain was far beyond that of a stray dog; it had to proceed gradually to gain control, unwilling to let go of the circle of “food” around it. For now, it seized the motor nerves, preparing to hunt.

As the group fumbled with their phones, trying to call for help, the youth abruptly opened bloodshot eyes.

He sprang up, movements twisted and unnatural yet strong and swift, tearing open a companion’s windpipe as easily as snapping a rubber hose, then, with two deft fingers, gouged out another’s eyes with a wet pop, like crushing grapes.

The blood-soaked spectacle sent the remaining three or four scrambling in terror, but the alley was too narrow; they stumbled and collided, unable to escape.

The youth was in no rush to kill, twisting his limbs in strange, powerful attacks to ensure none could flee.

Missing the finer sense of touch and spatial awareness, it often slipped or missed its mark, but even if it fell, it twisted its joints to lunge, dispatching every last one.

With each hunt, it became more skilled; its evolution accelerated, simulated nerves granting ever more complex thought.

Suddenly, confusion struck.

Who am I? Where did I come from? What am I meant to do?

Deep within its consciousness lay countless fragments of information—ways of evolution, techniques of slaughter and predation—but nothing about itself.

It was learning to think, yet lost in uncertainty.

One truth remained: only by evolving, by growing stronger, could it live as it pleased.

Fragments of information churned within, and a meaningless syllable surfaced.

Adonsa. Yes, I am... Adonsa!

At that moment, the monster gained a name.

Neural signals crackled wildly; the youth convulsed as if in an epileptic fit, an exaggerated smile twisting his face. Bloodshot eyes blazed with deranged crimson, feasting upon the carnage.

Amidst the sound of chewing, Adonsa’s tendrils unfurled, probing every corner like the roots of a ravenous seed in a cramped pot.

Adonsa felt a sudden clarity; the human brain’s complexity was leagues beyond the stray’s, raising its consciousness to new heights.

Without guidance, unfamiliar yet instinctive knowledge flooded its mind—every movement, every physiological mechanism of this carbon-based lifeform.

A subtle manipulation of hormones and nerve conduction sent the body into feverish overdrive, rapidly digesting “food” in the stomach, discarding the useless, channeling nutrients to the brain—Adonsa’s seat.

But abruptly, after a spasm, the youth collapsed, losing breath, heartbeat, and all signs of life.

Adonsa slowly withdrew its tendrils, liquid body seeping from the nostrils, emerging as a palm-sized pink jelly.

The host’s sudden death was unexpected; mastering knowledge didn’t guarantee flawless application. Reckless alteration of metabolic rates had triggered a violent reaction.

It examined its newly improved body—disorderly organs now replaced by an orderly system—yet dissatisfaction lingered. It couldn’t escape dependence on hosts; their weakness severely limited its growth.

Then again, a host too powerful would never yield to its control.

With a shake, Adonsa sprang up, displaying remarkable agility contrary to its appearance, and latched onto another prey struggling to flee.

Feeling the alien touch on his skin, the victim uttered incoherent screams, but Adonsa ignored them, dodged flailing limbs, and clung to the head, slipping in through nose, ears, and eyes to begin another experiment.

Parasitism, transformation, experimentation—again and again.

Repeated trials quickly exhausted its limited stock, leaving nothing but blood-soaked remnants.

Adonsa now cautiously controlled its final host; damaging this one would make the next hunt far more difficult.

This host seemed the youngest—soft down still clinging to his lips, hair crudely dyed, uncertain whether out of cowardice or lack of time for more rebellious styling.

Once the transformation was complete, Adonsa felt a flicker of satisfaction, echoed by a stiff, awkward smile on the host’s face—a sign of increasingly refined control.

Movement grew smoother and more agile; the host bent low, gnawing at the remains on the ground. Adonsa was nothing if not frugal—at the dawn of its enterprise, it would waste not a single scrap of protein.

Metabolic cycles were strengthened within safe limits, balancing internal chemistry while maximizing digestion, metabolism, movement, and reflexes.

A flush to the skin signaled the limits of metabolic function—not for lack of speed, but because rapid metabolism’s heat would first destroy the body’s proteins.

Adonsa pondered its next step: to develop heat-resistant proteins and replace the body’s fragile tissues.

This would strengthen the current host and open paths for future evolution.

A bout of intestinal gas surged up, erupting as a burp. The host blinked, looking for all the world like an innocent boy of thirteen or fourteen.

If one ignored the bloodstained clothes and the clots of flesh at his lips.

Adonsa needed more food, more experimental material.

It tried to run, but could not move quickly—its vision was terribly inadequate.

These carbon-based monkeys were even weaker than the stray dog, lacking even basic night vision, severely limiting mobility. Their agility was noteworthy, but in practice, it was excessive—without enough power or stability, they were prone to dislocation and fracture.

In short, Adonsa could not yet modify abilities that touched the limits of the species.

At the alley’s end, a kaleidoscopic glow beckoned; the street at midnight was still awash with cars and people.

Adonsa felt no hesitation, no fear. Negative hormones and reflexes had long been suppressed. It strode forward without a second thought.