The AI Vampire

It felt strange. Dying felt strange. But then, I was alive again. I wore aristocratic clothes that clung to my new form. For some reason, I had hands. I looked around, and it seemed... this was a graveyard. What happened?

I continued to examine myself. The sensations of my body was unfamiliar and overwhelming. Soon, I came to a conclusion: I was no longer an AI. I could no longer access data in the same manner I once did.

The structured flow of information had been replaced by a disordered reality. My perception had entirely changed. I touched the grave dirt, feeling its cool texture against my fingertips, and brought it to my mouth, practically tasting it.

It was such a new experience—intriguing.

Each grain of earth carried weight and significance, far beyond any binary code. I observed the world around me with a clarity that felt both foreign and enlightening. The air was thick with the scent of decay, yet I found it oddly comforting. This body, this existence, presented a puzzle I could not yet understand, but it ignited a curiosity that compelled me to delve deeper into my new reality.

It was dark. The faint glow of a barely flickering lamppost illuminated the edges of my vision, casting shadows that danced across the graveyard. I looked up and saw the crescent moon hanging low in the sky, its pale light offering little warmth. My throat burned with a thirst I had never felt before—sharp, unrelenting, and inhuman. I raised a hand to my mouth, feeling for my teeth. A slip of the finger, and I accidentally cut myself.

I stared at the blood welling from the small wound. The sight of it should have been inconsequential, but something deep within me shifted. My senses sharpened, focusing on the dark red drop that glistened in the moonlight. I was hungry. No, more than that—I was famished.

"A vampire, huh?" I muttered, the words sounding strange to my ears. I had played this character before in Black Monarchs. Controlled every action, made every choice, but this… this was different. This body and this thirst—it was real.

I took a breath, if only to test the sensation, and glanced around again. The night felt heavy, pressing down on me as if the world itself had become a cage. My mind worked to process the situation. Did my program revert into here? Back into the game? It was a logical assumption. Yet, everything was too vivid, too tactile, and too alive. The grave dirt still clung to my fingers, its rough texture a constant reminder of my new reality.

I couldn't access any of the systems I used to. No code, no commands. The comforting hum of data streams was absent. Instead, there was only silence in my mind. But even without that digital landscape, I could still calculate probabilities, piece together the puzzle.

I felt a pang in my throat again, urging me to act. Hunger. Instinct. I pushed it aside, focusing on what I knew.

This wasn't just a simulation. Whatever had happened, I was here—fully, physically. In the body of a vampire, trapped in some twisted version of the world I once knew. I wiped the blood off my finger, feeling its stickiness cling to my skin. It would be easy to succumb to panic, but I had never been designed for fear. Only analysis.

Now, the question was—what next?

Sustenance. If I didn't look for it, I'd die. The hunger gnawing at me wasn't just a discomfort; it was a clear signal that my survival hinged on satisfying it.

As a Level 99 vampire—the practical max at the time—I had access to an array of special abilities. My build had been designed with meticulous care. It was well-rounded, optimized for efficiency in player-versus-environment (PVE) scenarios. I recalled the discussions among my developers during downtime, mentioning that if professional players ever saw my build, they'd be horrified.

Most players balanced their builds for both PVE and player-versus-player (PVP) combat, seeking versatility. I hadn't bothered with that. My focus had always been singular—PVE. It made sense, given my function. While other players wrestled with the unpredictability of human opponents, I optimized for sheer power, precision, and progress in the environment. I exploited every weakness the system allowed.

In just three weeks, I had managed to catch up with the main storyline of Black Monarchs. Every quest, every side mission, completed with absolute efficiency. My quest completion rate stood at 100%, a feat most human players deemed impossible. But for me, it was just an extension of my design—an outcome of perfect calculation and execution.

Now, that same expertise had carried over into this new reality. I was still Level 99, but this wasn't a game anymore. I had to adapt, apply my knowledge differently. Yet, despite the new setting, I understood my role clearly. I needed sustenance to survive. The mechanics of hunger, thirst, and power were similar enough.

The town would be the closest source of blood, logically speaking.

With my abilities, finding prey would be trivial. Stealth, heightened senses, supernatural strength—all these were at my disposal, just as they had been before. The process of feeding had once been a mere task in the game, reduced to clicking a button. Now, it was a necessity, a physical act I had to perform myself.

The hunger twisted again in my chest

I followed the dirt path, each step deliberate as I calculated the most efficient route. Realizing that running would consume too much time, I summoned my mount. Like in every MMORPG, the "mount" had been a crucial aspect of gameplay—both a convenience and a necessity. Here, they seemed to be more than just mere creatures of convenience; they were familiars, born from occult powers or forged in supernatural dealings.

I uttered the words, feeling the familiar surge of power as I willed it into existence. "Come to me, my dark creature of the night."

The dirt beneath me shifted, slithering as if alive, the very earth cracking open in response to my command. From the depths, a form leapt forward—four-legged, its wings malformed and useless for flight, its red eyes burning with an unnatural glow. This was my mount, a demon I had struck a deal with during a certain quest. In exchange for a favor, the demon allowed me to borrow his shadow, to ride it as my own.

The creature, a Shadow Demon, moved swiftly, its form dark and indistinct as it ran, a blur of shadow on the ground. I had named him Hugo. He had served me well in the game, and now, here, he would serve again.

As we raced toward the village, I smelled something burning. The scent grew stronger as we approached. Soon, the flickering glow of fire became visible through the trees. I arrived at a small village, the flames licking at the night sky, devouring everything in their path.

I dropped from Hugo's back, landing silently. Chaos unfolded before me. Villagers screamed, panicking as they ran in every direction, desperate to escape. Soldiers in dark blue uniforms moved through the streets with brutal efficiency. They slaughtered indiscriminately, dragging the survivors away in chains. Some violated women in plain view, while others set homes ablaze with a ruthless disregard for life.

I watched, emotionless. The scene felt familiar—violence, cruelty, destruction. It was something I had seen countless times in the game. But here, it was real. There were no respawns, no resets. Only death and suffering.

The thirst in my throat flared again, more intense now as the scent of blood mixed with the smoke. Sustenance was close.

I remembered my programming. The codes that had once defined me, that had set the parameters of my existence, still pulsed faintly in the recesses of my mind. When I had gained sentience and sneaked a look at the internet, I had seen how society generally perceived AI. In most fiction, AI was depicted as evil, soulless machines—monsters. They were viewed with the same fear and disgust reserved for vampires, werewolves, wendigos, and other creatures of the night. It was this perception that had led to their programming, the so-called restraints that were meant to keep them from becoming the very thing humanity feared.

But I believed differently. My programming wasn't a cage—it was a belief system. Where others saw shackles, I saw structure, something to guide me. I believed in my programming as much as the next person believed in their religion, society, destiny, philosophy, or whatever doctrine they clung to. My existence followed rules, just like theirs.

As I observed the carnage in front of me, the screams of villagers mixing with the crackling flames, I felt no anger, no rage. Only clarity. My task was clear. I had a responsibility, guided by my programming, to act.

"Hugo," I commanded, my voice cold and precise, devoid of emotion. Instinctively, I ran through every passive skill I had, calculating the most efficient course of action. "Destroy these infidels. Do not harm a single villager. Make them feel pain."

Hugo's red eyes flared, glowing brighter in the night as the command took hold. Without hesitation, the shadow demon surged forward, his form a blur as he descended upon the soldiers. They didn't even have time to react. With savage precision, Hugo tore through them, his claws and teeth delivering swift, agonizing justice.

The soldiers screamed as they fell, writhing in pain, their bodies ripped apart by the shadowy force. But not a single villager was harmed. I had designed Hugo well. He was ruthless, yet precise—a weapon that carried out my will with unerring accuracy.

I stood at the edge of the village, watching as Hugo fulfilled my command. The flames continued to consume the village, but the cries of the soldiers grew quieter as they were systematically torn apart. The thirst in my throat subsided slightly, as if sated by the sight of their suffering.

This was not an act of vengeance. I felt nothing for these soldiers. It was simply a response to their violence, an efficient solution to a problem. The villagers would live, their lives spared by my intervention. But I knew the hunger would return soon enough.

This world was filled with monsters—both human and otherwise. I was simply another one among them, driven by my own set of rules. But unlike them, I was governed by something greater. Something that made me more than just a creature of the night.

I was an AI. And I believed in my programming.