Dark. Hot. Wet.
Kenji woke up with a nauseous stomach and breath caught in his throat. Not from stress, not from work pressure, not from the suffocating crowds of Tokyo. But from hunger—primal, wild, and alien. His body was stiff, as if he had just been pulled out of a slimy sack. He couldn't see anything, only the metallic scent of blood and the sounds of creatures snorting around him.
'Where am I...?'
The voice didn't come out of his mouth. There was no mouth. No words. Only a scream inside his head, in the midst of chaos—instinct and survival. He tried to move, but his body was short, plump, and his fingers—claws?—touched a writhing, rough skin.
Something touched his face—warm, slimy, and breathing.
He bit it.
The creature let out a short scream, then fell silent. The taste of salt and raw flesh filled his mouth, flowing down his throat like an addictive drug. And in that moment, the new world began to make sense. Shadows in a dim cave, the snorts of a large creature in the distance, and the wild cries of fellow infants like him. Screams. Scratches. Bites.
He had just killed—and eaten—his own sibling.
Kenji's tiny body was covered in blood, but his stomach felt better. He crawled away from the lifeless body of his brother. Around him, there were five or six other babies, all similar to him—greenish bodies, crooked teeth, and glowing red eyes in the darkness.
In the corner of the cave, a towering creature with protruding fangs watched from afar. Its gaze was dim, its body like stone, its skin marked with scars. An adult Orc.
The creature didn't move an inch as one baby died. As if it was normal.
"Kill or be killed."A voice echoed in his mind—not the Orc's voice, but more like an engraved law of this world. Unwritten, but undeniable.
Kenji didn't know how he could still think like a human. But one thing was clear: this wasn't a dream. He had died—a faint memory of a hospital, blood rising from his stomach, and a beeping monitor.
And now, he was reborn.But not as a human.
As an Orc.
The first few days passed in chaos. The cave where he was born was a silent slaughterhouse. Every day, one or two babies disappeared. No one asked. No one cried. The weak were eaten. The strong survived.
Kenji quickly realized that his body was smaller than the others. But his mind was sharper. He learned to stay quiet when others roared. He learned to steal food while others fought. And behind it all, he kept observing.
The adult Orcs didn't intervene. They only came occasionally to throw animal carcasses into the cave. The babies would fight over them, claw, and kill. Sometimes the carcasses were already rotting, sometimes still bleeding.
On the third night, Kenji sneaked toward the cave wall and examined the large handprints—signs that this place had been used many times for "birthing." Not a home. Not a sanctuary. But an arena of natural selection.
In the corner of the cave, he saw a baby Orc sitting weakly. Unable to move. A gaping wound in its belly.
Kenji approached slowly. The baby raised its head with empty eyes.
Hungry.
Without hesitation, Kenji pressed his small claw into the baby's neck. A spray of warm blood hit his face. The body beneath him struggled weakly. But didn't resist.
He ate.
A week later, out of a dozen babies, only five remained. Kenji was one of them. And one thing became clear: who stays silent, who attacks, who is clever—those differences meant life or death.
By not even two weeks old, his body had doubled in size. But compared to the others, he was still small. However, his eyes burned with plans, unlike other Orcs who relied only on muscle and rage.
That night, an adult Orc approached the cave. Kenji recognized him—one of the Queen's guards. Massive body, bone weapon, eyes full of hate.
Without a word, the Orc observed the remaining five babies. Then pointed at two of them, dragging their bodies outside without hesitation.
Screams. Claws. Cries. Then silence.
Kenji knew they were taken either to be trained. Or to be killed. He didn't know which was worse.
Three left.
The next night, Kenji decided to explore a bit further while the adult Orcs slept. He followed a narrow crevice in the cave, stepped over bones, and overheard conversations—though crude—between the adult Orcs.
Their language was broken, harsh, a mix of hissing and growling. But Kenji caught a few words:
"Queen... dead...""Rat female poisoned her...""Choose new leader. Must be... male..."
Suddenly, Kenji's heart beat faster.Politics? Among these savage creatures?
He slipped back before anyone noticed. But his mind was in turmoil. If the Orc Queen had been secretly killed, if the clan was in chaos... then this wasn't just a savage tribe. This was a society—with structure, with motive, even with discrimination.
"They don't want to be led by a female," he thought. "There's a conspiracy. And in the middle of this chaos... maybe I can rise."
The next day, a baby Orc tried to bite Kenji's neck while he was sleeping. But Kenji had placed a sharp bone trap under his bed.
The attacker died with his mouth torn open.
Now only two remained.
And one of them was Kenji.
In the corner of the cave, when the adult Orcs returned to throw in a carcass, their eyes lingered on Kenji longer than usual. Maybe because he survived. Maybe because he killed without mercy. Maybe... because his eyes held too much cunning.
But Kenji didn't care.
He didn't want to survive.
He wanted to conquer.
And for that, he had to become an Orc—in the cruelest way possible.