The same question haunted me over and over again, always carrying the same answer. Yet no matter how many times it came, that answer never fit me. Or perhaps, I was never meant to fit into it.


    What does it mean to adapt?


    People say it''s about changing-adjusting oneself to new circumstances, molding into whatever shape society demands. They call it survival. But that idea never made sense to me.


    I was born into this world, yet I''ve never felt like I belonged. I observe people-watch their joys, their sorrows, their anger, their love. I''ve studied their emotions, waiting for the day I might experience them myself. But that day never came. And strangely enough, I don''t care.


    To me, adaptation is something else entirely. It''s about recognizing what is useful, accepting it, and discarding what isn''t. That''s why I don''t bother with emotions. They are unnecessary. They make people weak, cloud their judgment, and distract them from survival.


    Maybe I''m broken. Maybe I''m different. But I have no intention of changing. Not for anyone. Not for anything.


    ---


    The streets of the city buzzed with life, but I barely noticed. My steps were slow, my body light from days without food. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I ignored it. I had endured worse before. I would endure again.


    The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, but I didn''t bother looking. Begging was out of the question. Stealing... possible, but my body was too weak to outrun anyone.


    "I should have taken something earlier," I muttered under my breath. "But even if I had, would I have made it out alive?"


    I glanced at my tattered clothes-nothing more than scraps barely clinging to my body. My shoes were falling apart, barely holding together. A fleeting regret crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside. Regret was useless.


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    Survival was all that mattered.


    I continued walking, moving past the busy stalls and into the quieter outskirts of the city. Here, the air was still. The noise of the crowd faded behind me, leaving only silence.


    That''s when I saw it-a small, old house, standing out like an anomaly amidst the worn-down buildings. It was well-kept, freshly painted, unlike anything around it.


    "I can''t go any further," I muttered.


    The balcony looked warm. It was the closest thing to shelter I had found in days. Without hesitation, I climbed up and lay down among the flowers. Their faint fragrance wrapped around me, almost comforting.


    For a brief moment, I let myself rest.


    But the peace didn''t last.


    A sudden chill ran down my spine.


    The air shifted-growing colder, then warmer, then cold again. A feeling I couldn''t describe settled in my gut. I sat up, scanning my surroundings. Something was wrong.


    In the distance, I saw people moving-no, running. Their movements were frantic, filled with urgency. My curiosity got the better of me, and I followed.


    The city was in chaos. People rushed toward the center, their eyes filled with fear. I slipped through the crowd, unnoticed as I studied them. The wealthy, the powerful, the strong-they were all panicked. And yet, they were supposed to be the ones in control.


    Something had changed.


    The night had come earlier than usual. The sky was darker-so dark that even the moon''s light seemed weaker.


    I frowned.


    "Was the sky always this dark?" I whispered to myself.


    Then it happened.


    The moon, which had been pale and distant, flared to life. It shone with an unnatural brilliance, illuminating the city with a piercing glow. It was too bright, too intense-like something out of a nightmare.


    But it wasn''t just the moon. The very air felt... different.


    A red hue spread across the sky, staining the world below. The moon''s light shifted-from white to crimson, casting an eerie glow over everything it touched.


    The city fell into stunned silence. People stopped, staring up in horror and awe.


    And then, the rain came.


    At first, it seemed normal-tiny droplets falling gently from the sky. But as they landed on my skin, I noticed something was off. The color was wrong. The scent was metallic.


    I wiped a drop from my face. My fingers came away red.


    It wasn''t rain.


    It was blood.


    The downpour grew heavier, painting the streets in crimson. The scent of iron filled the air. People screamed. Some collapsed, others ran. But I stood still, watching as the world around me changed.


    I did not feel fear. Nor did I feel horror.


    I only watched.


    Somewhere in the distance, a whisper carried through the wind. Soft at first, then louder, repeating the same chilling phrase over and over again.


    "The coming era of blood."


    I lifted my gaze to the sky. The blood-red moon stared back.


    And for the first time, I felt something stir within me.


    Not fear.


    Not excitement.


    Just the quiet certainty...


    That everything was about to change.