Awakening

I woke up.

Dark. Cold. Hungry. Where was I? A moment ago I'd been asleep in bed—so where was this?

Hungry. Hungry. Thirsty. Thirsty. Cramped. Suffocating.

Where? Where was this? Who was I? Why couldn't I see a thing?

"How long am I supposed to keep watching this egg, anyway? God, the brass don't know a damn thing… Just because there's a reaction doesn't mean it's alive. Seriously."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. My tail and wings barely twitched—wait. Tail? Wings? Why did I have those? That shouldn't be possible.

A dream?

Too vivid for that… and too real. Even the nauseating sensation of being stuck in this… soup-like fluid was far too sharp.

"Ten years of being strung along, and they're still falling for it. If I'd known I'd end up working under idiots like that, I never would've studied life sciences."

Someone's voice. A human voice, thick with irritation.

Dream or not, real or not—I had to get out of this first if I was going to understand anything.

I forced my unresponsive body to move, and ominous sounds—crack, crunch—traveled through the liquid.

Fingers, hands, wrists, forearms, arms. Toes, feet, ankles, knees, legs. Working through them one by one, I felt myself loosen enough to move a little better.

"W-what? What's it doing? No—that can't be—after ten years of being dea—"

I stretched out the wings and tail that should never have existed, braced my tightly curled body, and shoved hard against everything enclosing me.

Something shattered with a splintering crash. Frigid air hit me, along with light so bright it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nearly blinded me.

I tried to drag in a deep breath—and discovered only that my lungs were full of some unknown fluid.

"…Bweeeehk."

I retched up the foul liquid flooding my lungs, coughed dryly a few times, and only then could I breathe with any ease.

"Haaaah…"

I took a long breath and, out of habit, brushed my hand across my chest—and felt a massive mound of flesh.

My eyes still aching from incomplete light adaptation, I forced them open and looked down. Two large breasts that had no business being on me sat there in plain view.

"…What is this?"

The wings and tail that no human should possess were shocking enough. The breasts hit harder.

And my voice wasn't mine either. Higher… somehow more feminine.

Reeling in the absurdity of it all, I raised a hand to my head and felt a pair of horns. Wait. Horns?

As I groped at them, my eyes happened to fall on my hand—and there, covering it, was something dark red, somewhere between scales and carapace.

Hold on. Time out. Why were my hands covered in scales?

What the hell had happened to my body?

From one to ten, nothing made sense. That I'd broken out of something shaped like an egg. That I'd suddenly become… whatever this was.

I was lost.

"Ah… aah…"

If there was one silver lining, it was the human right in front of me—someone who looked like they might know something.

My body still wouldn't take proper strength; my steps were unsteady. Even so, I staggered over, grabbed the human collapsed on the floor, and hauled them upright…

…I needed to ask questions.

So why did this woman's throat look so delicious?

One bite. One swallow of blood, and I could die happy. That was how it felt.

The thirst and hunger that curiosity and shock had been holding down slowly lifted their heads in time with the pulse of the veins visible beneath her skin.

I wanted to eat. I wanted to drink. I wanted it desperately.

Blood.

Just one mouthful. Even a single drop would do.

"L-let go— keh, keck—"

Whatever had become of me, one warm, fresh mouthful of blood felt like it would make everything all right—and before I knew it, I sank my teeth into her neck and drank.

"S-save me—anyone—pleas—"

I didn't even understand why my wings folded around her. I simply followed instinct, hiding us from view as I gorged myself more greedily still.

By the time my mind cleared, the woman was already dried out, shriveled into something like a mummy.

Had I… killed her?

Somehow, it didn't hit me that hard.

I had killed a person.

And yet it felt… natural. As if this was simply how things were supposed to be.

What had happened to me? Or—was this even real? Wasn't this a dream?

Still dazed, I thriftily licked the blood from my teeth so none of it would go to waste—and red warning lights began to whirl as a blaring alarm flooded the room.

"Subject…"

Was I some kind of test subject? Even a secret American lab shouldn't be able to pull this off. Was something like this even possible in reality?

The questions didn't last. Something enormous smashed through the glass of my enclosure and forced its way in.

And it looked… far too much like the "monsters" described in the web novel I'd loved reading, I Picked Up a Magical Girl.

Or maybe not. Right or wrong, one thing didn't change: these things were enemies. For all I knew, they only looked the part.

I had no time to wonder. The monster—shaped like someone had tried to reinvent a cockroach—charged at me with enough force to crack the floor tiles under its feet.

If it hit me head-on, death was the least of it; there wouldn't even be a corpse left. I should have been terrified…

But I wasn't. Not really. If anything, I felt a strange certainty that I could meet it head-on and win.

Looking closer, the charging monster almost seemed the frightened one. Why was the side trying to kill me more scared? These things charged stronger opponents without a shred of fear.

I turned it over in my mind—and arrived at the thought that its charge looked absurdly slow.

And then I began to understand, a little, why monsters I ought to fear didn't feel frightening at all.

Was I… really strong?

A charge that would have killed my original body before I could even react looked so slow I could stand there thinking and observing. That had to mean I was ridiculously powerful.

Just a what-if—but if I had truly been isekai'd into the web novel I used to binge, everything would fit.

Why that monster was flying at me so slowly. Why its screams and the alarm broadcast sounded so sluggish and muffled. All of it.

In I Picked Up a Magical Girl, the strong used to dodge the protagonist's attacks in the literal blink of an eye.

The author probably meant it as a way to show the gap in power—but they overused it until it got stale.

Later on, once the protagonist reached a certain level, they started pulling the same trick, and I'd snort every time.

Anyway. Maybe this was that. As far as I knew, it was the only explanation that made sense of what I was feeling.

While I was lost in thought, it occurred to me that I could probably just walk out of the path of the charge.

I tested an arm, a leg. There was a little resistance, but they moved as lightly as ever.

So I strode out of the monster's line of attack. With time still to spare, I even wandered over right beside the thing still sailing through the air.

Up close it was grotesque and, in a way, impressive. I circled it, studying every detail—then finally remembered I was supposed to be fighting.

Given a monster's nature, talking things out peacefully didn't seem likely. And as for running… something in me recoiled at the idea.

Rationally, fleeing was the right call. But I was supposed to run from trash like this?

From one measly bug?

Irritation surged for no good reason. I raised my hand high and brought it down on the monster's waist.

In that instant, time—which had been crawling—snapped back to normal. The monster was cut cleanly in half, and behind it the lab's glass and bulkhead split vertically as well.

Uh. I hadn't meant to carve those up too.

I was still reeling from strength that had blown past every expectation when more monsters—every kind of vermin given form—poured in through the gap the first one had smashed open.

Time, however, did not slow again.

…I really had no idea when time decided to drag and when it decided to race.

Even with a swarm of enemies in front of me, what rose first wasn't fear—it was annoyance.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

How long was it going to take to kill all these damn bugs?

"Th-the captain, in a single hit…?"

The monsters stared down at the cockroach-thing that had died in two pieces, visibly rattled.

None of them rushed me first, and I was wondering if I'd have to go to them when something that looked like a scorpion hybrid opened its mouth.

"D-don't lose your nerve! That thing's been dead for ten years and just woke up! E-even if they mixed dragon factors with vampire factors, it's no better than a newborn!!!"

I'd thought it might actually talk to me. Instead it was giving a pep talk to its terrified underlings.

Still… thanks to that, I picked up some useful information.

The horns on my head. The wings and tail. The black scales covering my hands, feet, and parts of my body… I'd half suspected, but I really was a dragon.

And a vampire lineage… so, something like a vampire? No wonder the blood had tasted so good. That explained it.

But that wasn't the problem for right now.

Questions I couldn't answer on the spot, I set aside. Thinking them over wouldn't help anyway.

First: the things in front of me.

"Not coming?"

I took hold of a horn, rolled my neck until it cracked, and murmured it—and the monsters' bodies went rigid.

Guess not. Then I'd go to them.

I dropped low and readied myself to spring, and time slowed again. I still had no idea what the conditions were.

But that, too, wasn't important right now.

I kicked off the floor, and the tiles ruptured far worse than they had under the cockroach monster.

I was flying at a speed that would have made processing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠visual information impossible in my old body—and yet I could see, with perfect clarity, exactly where and how to strike.

So I did. On the first leap, both hands smashed two monsters' heads open. On the second, springing off a wall, I awkwardly but powerfully swept my leg and sheared through several more torsos.

In my whole life, the only fights I'd ever had were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keyboard wars—and yet using this body felt absurdly easy.

I didn't question it. If it helped right now, that was enough.

One. Another. Another still. I tore across ceiling and floor, wall to wall, killing and killing again.

"That… that thing is no newborn…"

I stomped the last one's waist and tore it apart—and only then noticed the blood soaking the entire floor.

…They'd said I was part vampire. So of course I was curious whether I could drink monster blood too.

I squatted, about to lap it up, then decided that was a little too uncivilized.

I still didn't understand how I did it, but I stretched out a hand and drew in the blood flooding every surface.

Watching the blood climb against gravity and pour into my palm, I almost believed I was still dreaming.

I thought about punching myself in the face to check—then decided against it, afraid my head might burst the way the monsters' had.

Dream or not didn't matter for the moment. First, I had to deal with the enemies.

I'd killed every monster that had come at me—but there was no way that was all of them.

The booming footsteps still rolling toward me said there were plenty left.

The direction… that hole, probably.

I stepped out through the breach the monsters had used, and in the distance I could see more of them charging in.

Oh.

No need to go looking. They were coming to me.

Grateful for the convenience, I got back to the killing.

Strike. Kill. Draw in the blood. Cut. Burst. Bite.

Focused on slaughtering whatever was in front of me, I eventually realized not a single monster remained.

Only after I'd wiped them all out—after I'd thriftily licked the blood from my nails and even my tail—did the question finally surface.

Just what was this body? What was I?

"M-monster…"

If there was one stroke of luck left, it was this: right beside me stood someone who might be able to explain.