PREDATOR

chapter three

A sweet fragrance drifted into Dennis’s nose.

His senses felt sharper—too sharp. Even the softness of the pillow beneath his head sent an unfamiliar chill down his spine, like his body no longer recognized comfort.

The air smelled clean and expensive, carrying a faint scent of cologne and polished wood.

His eyes snapped open.

“Where… am I?”

The words came out strained as he pushed himself upright from the bed. His movements were unsteady, his breathing uneven.

The room was massive, clean, and luxurious. Everything about it screamed wealth. Dark marble floors reflected the morning light spilling through the curtains, while expensive furniture sat untouched around him like something out of a movie.

Then—

Knock.

Knock.

The sound hit him like a trigger.

Dennis’s heart began to race violently. His vision blurred slightly as he stared at the door, his chest tightening almost instantly.

“W-Who is that?” he asked, clutching his chest.

“Miles? Are you awake?” a feminine voice called from outside, her tone impatient. “You’re going to be late.”

The doorknob twisted slightly making him free.

Miles?

The name echoed in his head, and suddenly everything came rushing back at once.

The basement, the flames,the suffocating smoke and the smell of burning flesh.

His own flesh.

Dennis staggered slightly, gripping the edge of the bed as his breathing became erratic. The memories slammed into him so hard his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

Was I… rescued?

Or…

The doorknob turned again.

“Just a minute!” he stammered quickly before grabbing a pair of shorts nearby and pulling them on.

The door opened before he could say anything else. A woman stepped inside.

She was elegant and composed, her long dark hair cascading down her back while confidence radiated from every movement she made. Her sharp eyes swept across him with mild irritation.

Dennis instinctively stepped back.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

She frowned slightly. “Did you hit your head or something?” she asked. “Get up, Miles. We’re already running late.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Late for what?”

She crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you forgot. There’s a memorial today. A student from your school died a few days ago.”

A few days.

Dennis'' breath caught in his throat.

“He was burned alive,” she added casually. “You should at least pretend to care. Get ready. I’ll wait in the car.”

Without another word, she turned and walked out.

The door shut behind her, leaving silence behind.

Dennis remained motionless for several seconds as the realization slowly settled over him like a crushing weight. He wasn’t dreaming. He hadn’t been rescued from that basement.

He had died.

His breathing grew heavier as a violent throb pounded against his skull. Panic crept into his chest while cold sweat formed along his neck.

Dennis turned slowly and walked toward the bathroom like he was being dragged there by an invisible force.

The moment he reached the mirror, he froze completely.

“…Who am I?”

The face staring back at him wasn’t his.

There were no burns. No scars. No trace of the agony he remembered.

Just the face of a complete stranger.

Handsome.

Untouched.

Alive.

[ Transfiguration completed ]

[ Host awareness: active ]

Dennis staggered backward violently, shaking his head.

“No… no, this isn’t me,” he whispered hoarsely.

His trembling fingers rose slowly to touch his face. Warm skin met his fingertips. A steady pulse. Living flesh.

“What did you do to me?” he muttered.

A low mechanical hum echoed through his mind.

[ Host synchronization: 32% ]

[ Physical integrity: Stable ]

[ Memory retention: Confirmed ]

Dennis'' breath hitched sharply.

“You… you’re the voice from the fire.”

The same voice that spoke to him while he burned alive.

“What is this? Where am I? Whose body is this?!” he demanded.

[ Response: You are alive ]

[ Correction: You are functional ]

His jaw tightened immediately. “That’s not an answer!”

[ Clarification: Original host—deceased ]

[ Current host: Miles Robertson ]

Dennis felt his stomach drop violently.

“…You’re saying I took over someone else’s body?”

Silence followed.

But the silence itself was enough.

He gripped the sink tightly as his reflection stared back at him with unfamiliar eyes. Calm. Composed. Perfectly untouched.

It didn’t look like someone who had died screaming in flames.

“Dennis Lawson is dead,” he whispered slowly.

[ Confirmed ]

For a brief moment, his mother’s face flashed through his mind.

The tears she would cry.

The pain she would carry.

The thought alone nearly shattered him.

His grip tightened around the sink until his knuckles turned white.

“Then what am I now?”

[ You are a Predator ]

“A… what?”

Before he could process the words—

“Miles!” the woman’s voice called again from outside. “If you’re not out in thirty seconds, I’m leaving you behind!”

Fine.

Dennis decided to go with the name given to him by the system even though he wasn't sure who Miles was.

He slowly turned toward the door.

Attending his own memorial. The thought twisted painfully inside his chest.

“They think I’m dead,” he murmured quietly.

[ Observation: Correct ]

[ Suggestion: Attend ]

Miles frowned slightly. “You want me to go?”

[ Affirmative ]

[ Opportunity: High ]

His eyes narrowed. “Opportunity… for what?”

No response came this time.

Miles exhaled slowly before running a hand through his hair and looking back at the mirror one last time.

A stranger stared back at him.

But behind those unfamiliar eyes, the same pain still remained.

The same hatred.

The same rage.

“Fine,” he muttered.

The car ride was painfully silent.

Lilith drove with one hand resting casually on the wheel while soft music played quietly in the background. Every now and then, she glanced toward him with growing suspicion.

“You’re acting strange today,” she finally said. “Don’t tell me this memorial is bothering you.”

Miles turned slightly toward her. “Someone died.”

“People die every day,” she replied flatly. “Especially the weak ones.”

His fingers curled subtly against his lap.

“Did you know him?” he asked carefully.

Lilith shrugged. “No. I heard he was just a scholarship student. Probably nobody important.”

Miles turned toward the window before she could notice the shift in his expression.

Blackthorn Academy soon came into view.

The towering campus stood exactly the way he remembered it—grand, untouchable, and proud. Nothing had changed despite what happened in that basement.

Students still laughed. Conversations still filled the courtyard.

The world had simply moved on without him.

Miles stepped out of the car slowly as students dressed in black gathered around the academy grounds. Some whispered among themselves while others looked completely bored.

At a memorial.

“Try to look normal,” Lilith said while locking the car. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Miles ignored her completely.

His eyes were already searching through the crowd.

Then he saw them.

Jack Voss.

Standing confidently near the front in a neatly tailored black suit.

And beside him—

Maya Henderson.

Her expression looked soft and sympathetic, almost convincing enough to fool anyone watching.

Miles' vision darkened slightly.

His heart didn’t race anymore.

It didn’t need to.

“So this is what it looks like,” he murmured quietly.

[ Emotional state: Stabilizing ]

[ Aggression index: Rising ]

Miles' exhaled slowly as a staff member stepped forward onto the stage.

“Today, we gather to remember one of Blackthorn Academy’s students…”

Miles moved closer through the crowd.

“…Dennis Lawson. Please, let us observe a moment of silence.”

The atmosphere felt a bit tense, but only on the surface.

He glanced around silently. Some students lowered their heads respectfully while others whispered behind fake solemn expressions.

A few barely bothered hiding their boredom.

“He was a quiet student,” the speaker continued. “Though not particularly remarkable, his passing is… unfortunate.”

Miles let out a faint breath.

“Unfortunate,” he repeated under his breath.

A few feet ahead, Jack lowered his head slightly while maintaining the perfect image of a grieving friend. Maya gently placed a hand on his arm.

The performance was flawless.

He stepped even closer until he stood directly behind them.

Close enough to hear their whispers.

“Do you think anyone suspects?” Maya whispered softly.

Jack didn’t even look at her. “Of course not.”

His fingers twitched slightly.

“Besides,” Jack added calmly, “no one’s going to miss him.”

Then suddenly—

A cry shattered the silence.

Everyone turned instantly as a woman rushed toward the white coffin at the center of the memorial.

He froze.

He recognized her immediately.

His mother.

She collapsed near the coffin as grief tore through her entire body.

“Dennis… my son…”

Her voice cracked painfully as sobs escaped her lips.

He clenched his fists tightly at his sides. Something deep

inside him shifted violently at the sight of her suffering.

Something dark.

[ Predator System: Online ]

A series of names flashed across his vision.

Jack Voss.

Maya Henderson.

Others.

[ Select your target ]

The mechanical voice echoed coldly inside his head.

And for the very first time since his death—

he smiled.