Absolute instinct

Darian's body lay still in the wreckage of his once-proud family home, the world around him a hazy blur as his consciousness faded. The fury, the rage, the relentless battle—it had all caught up to him. He had fought for hours, maybe days, pushing his body beyond its limits. Every instinct had screamed for survival, every muscle had burned with the raw, untamed energy of the Vital Force. And yet, as the battle finally ended and his body collapsed, there was no triumph. Only emptiness.

Two days passed before his eyes fluttered open, the world slowly coming back into focus. His body felt heavy, but the pain—oh, the pain—was gone. He looked down at his chest and arms; the gruesome injuries from the battle with the monsters had healed. The cuts, the bruises, the gashes—all of it—gone. The only thing that remained was the weight in his heart, the hollow feeling that gnawed at him.

The world around him was still. Silence had replaced the roars of battle, the crushing sounds of creatures tearing through his family. There were no sounds of his family's voices, no warmth, no presence of the people who had shaped him. Only cold, lifeless remnants.

Darian pushed himself to his feet, his movements stiff and awkward. His limbs ached with the residual exhaustion, but the force that had kept him alive, the Vital Force, pulsed faintly inside him. It was both an anchor and a reminder. A reminder that he was alone.

He stumbled toward the wreckage where his family's bodies had fallen, the once-vibrant lives now reduced to broken pieces, scattered among the destruction. The devastation was overwhelming. His great-grandfather, his grandfather, his father—each had fought valiantly, but all had fallen before the onslaught of the mutated beasts.

His hand trembled as he reached for his father's body, lifting it gently and laying it to rest beside his mother, whose lifeless eyes stared vacantly into the sky. He did not speak, did not shed a tear—there were no tears left. He was numb.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the barren landscape. Darian stood, his eyes fixed on the broken earth, the grave of his family, and the silence that followed.

For a long while, he stood there, not moving, not speaking, his thoughts churning like the storm clouds that had gathered in the distance. His heart hammered in his chest as the weight of the world pressed down on him.

What now?

The question echoed in his mind, over and over again, growing louder with each passing minute. What was the purpose of all this? Why was he still alive? Was there any point to his survival, or had he simply been spared for some cruel, unknown reason?

Survival. It had been his instinct—the only thing that had driven him. But now, standing amidst the wreckage of everything he had ever known, the question seemed meaningless.

Should he seek revenge? Seek out every monster that had taken his family, kill them, one by one, until he was the last one standing? But even if he succeeded, what then? What did that change?

His eyes glanced around the ruins of his home, his family's graves now settled in the dirt. He could still hear their voices in his memory, see their faces in his mind's eye. But that was all they were now—memories. Fading, slipping through his grasp.

Was there more to this than just fighting?

A new sense of confusion gripped him. The Vital Force that had given him strength—it wasn't just about surviving. It had given him power, but what was the purpose of that power if he couldn't find meaning in it?

His gaze hardened as he thought back to the battle. How easily he had fought, how instinctively his body had moved. It was as though his very nature had taken over, carving through the monsters with a brutal, primal fury. But in the end, it hadn't been enough. His family was gone. The world was still in chaos.

Darian clenched his fists.

There had to be more. There had to be a reason.

Should he seek others?

He had heard rumors of shelters, of small pockets of human survivors scattered across the globe. But could he trust them? Would they see him as a threat? Or would they simply try to use him for their own gain? After all, he was different. He had powers they wouldn't understand.

A flash of anger surged through him. He wasn't sure what kind of man he was becoming. Was he a monster, like the ones

that had destroyed everything he held dear?