#1: 1 — An Ordinary Recruit's Monster Life (WN)

I had become a monster.

I probably didn’t have a name.

But don’t go thinking I was just some nameless monster.

For some reason, I had memories from when I was human.

It’s not a case of “I was reborn as a monster,” but rather one of those all-too-common horror movie plots: “Due to the results of human experimentation, I class-changed into a monster.”

Incidentally, it’s only that I didn’t have a “monster name”—I still had my human name from back then, “Yunos,” though no family name. Obviously, since I wasn’t a noble.

Whether I’d ever have a reason to use that name again was unknown, so frankly, I didn’t care much about it.

Now, as to why I defined myself as a “nameless monster”… it’s because my appearance didn’t resemble any creature I knew of.

In other words, that opening line was nothing but a desperate outburst.

When a blockhead like me—who couldn’t avoid conscription for the perfectly legitimate reason of “no impressive academic background or noteworthy skills”—tried to think of something profound, it’s no wonder I ended up being first on the chopping block when the military started bolstering their forces due to worsening war conditions.

To top it off, the mad scientist who used me as a guinea pig died ages ago, and I was not even sure if the empire that ordered the experiment still existed.

I woke up in a research facility that had been abandoned for around two hundred years, went through crying and screaming to apathy, acted out in denial of reality, then finally regained a little composure and tried to assess the situation by exploring my surroundings—only to end up here.

In my head, I was still thinking, “When did they even get cryogenic sleep technology to the point of practical use?” I never thought something I’d only seen in movies or manga could exist in reality, and I was still half-convinced this is some kind of elaborate prank.

But the surreal reality that I had become a monster was slowly convincing me that this was the real deal.

I only learned the current date because there was still some working equipment in the facility.

Right now, it was Northern Imperial Year 1872—I was born in 1648, became a soldier at eighteen, and was made an experimental subject that same year. Meaning, if the machine wasn’t broken and this wasn’t all staged, then I was over two hundred years old. I should have long since completed my duties as an imperial soldier and been living out my retirement on a pension.

But given the high probability that the empire no longer existed, my future wasn’t just bleak—my “life” ended ages ago. What’s left was a monster’s existence.

I wondered just how much regret my life held.

If the empire still existed, I should’ve been woken up long ago.

Which meant my once-proud homeland was either driven to a point where it couldn’t even keep track of these experiments… or it perished. Given the state of affairs back then, it’s safer to assume “the empire fell.”

After all, we were in an all-out war with every neighboring country as our enemy.

An empire desperate enough to conduct third-rate movie-style human experiments like this couldn’t have survived. Most likely, some “outrageous new weapon” ended up obliterating the nation itself.

Otherwise, there’s no explaining how I managed to sleep away until the cryogenic chamber’s maintenance limit without being disturbed.

What did I even do to deserve this?

I just got conscripted into the army, and when someone said, “You’ve got a good body. We’re running an experiment to enhance soldiers’ physical abilities. It’s a simple, risk-free test—you just drink some medicine. Want to give it a shot? Oh, spots are limited and it’s first-come-first-served, so if you change your mind later, there might not be any left. Actually, there are less than ten spots left right now. So? Want in?”… I fell for the pitch.

I should have stopped myself while signing the consent form.

“Next thing I knew, two hundred years had passed, and I woke up from cryogenic sleep as a monster.” Not even good for a punchline.

Thinking about it now almost made me laugh.

“Gagga, gagha…”

The moment I made a sound, I felt like crying.

I couldn’t speak human language anymore… just earlier, I cried “gao gao” like a wild beast.

“Crying gao gao” was quite the novel expression.

For the record, it was “cry” not “chirp,” and though no tears came out, it was still definitely “crying.”

Though I was far from human, my appearance could barely be called “humanoid”—my nearly three-meter-tall body was covered in hard hide, with a tail sprouting from my back, like something halfway between a reptile and a mammal… no, leaning toward reptile.

I managed to check over my body, but there’s almost nothing left from my human days.

And I was quietly shocked to realize I have no body hair at all… which I would stress was not the same as being bald.

Even with two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ear-like structures in the right places, the shell-like armor skin and impressive tail push me further from anything human-shaped.

Still, I didn’t think I’d want to cut the tail off.

It looked like it would hurt a lot… no, it would definitely hurt.

On top of that, walking on all fours felt more stable than walking on two legs—probably because my arms were a bit long. I’d suspected it, but when I tried running lightly, my balance was better if I used my arms as well.

That was when I had no choice but to fully acknowledge I was no longer human.

But with time, you couldn’t help but accept reality—and if you kept running from it, nothing started.

So I tried testing my abilities: I began punching the outer wall of the research facility, gradually increasing force—until the wall dented and my fist remained unscathed.

I also seemed to have high pain resistance; even hitting a metal door hard caused no pain.

When I tried punching with near full force, the door bent, flew down a pitch-black corridor, bouncing noisily all the way.

Again, my fist was unharmed and painless.

When I kicked the wall, it cracked with a loud boom.

Destroying a metal door and shattering a concrete wall had me thinking, “Damn, I’m pretty strong,” but since this was still inside the facility, going on a rampage would be bad.

Even so, this level of physical ability was exactly what the “Genetically Enhanced Soldier Project” must have aimed for.

(And yet, no one’s coming even after all this noise… not even an alarm going off?)

The eerie silence, as if no one was here at all, was unsettling.

Was this really the world two hundred years later? I looked down at my hands.

Rather than “genetic enhancement,” I felt more like a “chimera.” But in terms of ability, I was clearly a success.

The problem was that the subject no longer looked human.

If all I could say was “gao gao,” then “difficulty in communication” would have to be noted. What did the person behind this plan intend to do with such soldiers?

I didn’t have to say the answer aloud; the late-stage desperation of the empire was obvious.

Sighing—well, as much as a beast can sigh—I checked my reflection in a dirty mirror.

(This is definitely the kind of face that gets you labeled a target for extermination.)

Any thought of meeting someone vanished instantly.

If this were a monster-slaying game, I’d be at least a mid-boss by appearance alone.

Besides, I had no family, friends, or lover still alive.

Even if they were alive, how could I face them like this?

(Dad aside… my sister would be fine. I’d only have to worry about my little sister, but with big sis around, she’s probably fine too.)

I briefly worried about my family, but unlike the plain old me, the women in my family were oddly capable—more like high-spec superwomen.

My mother was the very picture of a “formidable woman,” my elder sister had even worked as a model and had the looks and education to match.

I quickly concluded, “They don’t need me worrying,” and felt a bit lighter.

My father?

He probably chased after women until he caught a stray bullet and died.

Anyway, nothing started unless I got out of here alive.

A pressing concern: I didn’t know how long the room’s equipment and power would last, so I should act quickly.

So I smashed through the broken door and left the lab… but after nearly an hour searching for an exit, I found nothing.

Power was out everywhere except the room I woke up in, and I crept through narrow, pitch-dark corridors, hunched over from the low ceilings, walking on all fours.

My claws clicked against the floor with every step, the sound echoing eerily, making the atmosphere downright scary.

Combined with the darkness, it felt just like a horror game—in fact, a monster in an abandoned facility is horror game 101.

(A monster prowling a dark, abandoned military facility with no lighting… yeah, total horror game.)

Still, thanks to excellent night vision, I could see just fine, though my human instincts still feared the dark.

That fear soon faded without me realizing.

Well, if they were going to make me into a soldier, I couldn’t exactly freeze in fear.

I figured they must have messed with that part too, so I decided not to dwell on it.

(This place is huge.)

The corridors felt cramped for my body, but the rooms were surprisingly spacious.

I checked them one by one, but found no passage that seemed like an exit, and started to feel like I was lost—probably because I was.

It would’ve been better if I’d toured the facility in my human days, but this place seemed different from the one in my memories, with nothing familiar at all.

I wanted a directory sign, but found none. Just equipment for experiments, sample specimens, bundles of tattered documents, and miscellaneous electronic parts.

Searching without a light source was reckless and terribly inefficient.

Reading anything was painfully difficult; I wanted a light, anything at all.

Wandering aimlessly didn’t seem wise, but moving was my strong suit.

I decided to “bring anything that might be useful” and kept exploring for the fun of it.

Then a problem arose right away.

The tools I found were too small—or rather, my body had grown too big for them.

I found a lighter but it was too tiny to use; when I got frustrated and tried harder, I broke it. This body’s strength was hard to control.

I also found a flashlight, but could only pinch it between my thumb and finger, and when I struggled to turn it on, I pressed too hard and broke it too.

Not that it mattered—every one I found had dead batteries anyway.

“Figures,” I muttered, dropping my rock-hard shoulders, and resumed prowling the lab.

Then I found it.

Or rather, stumbled upon it.

A room identical to the one I’d woken up in—meaning, another subject was here.

It was circular, with a cryogenic capsule in the center, surrounded by equipment and monitors, with a dozen pipes running from the walls to the center.

Carefully avoiding the pipes, I approached…

And saw that the cryogenic chamber was inactive. Inside, a monster identical to me lay dead, as if asleep.

I stood there in shock.

I imagined myself ending up like that.

(Was I… lucky?)

But could I really call this “lucky”?

Born human, living as a monster—was surviving a blessing or a curse?

The lighthearted mood vanished, replaced by gloom, and I kept exploring.

I found more.

In total, eight cryogenic chambers—all inactive.

Some held dried-out corpses.

Some contained remains that had decayed after abnormal cellular changes.