The fox lowered itself carefully beside the lizard, its limbs still trembling from the spatial backlash.
For a long moment, it simply breathed.
Slow.
Measured.
Pain radiated through its ribs each time its chest expanded, a deep, bruised ache that refused to dull.
"I need to treat my injuries…" it muttered under its breath.
Internal bruising. Strained meridians. Spiritual channels scorched from forced compression.
If it didn't stabilize soon, hidden damage would fester. What was survivable now could become crippling later.
Its paw shifted slightly, preparing to draw medicinal pellets from its storage ring—
Then—
A shift.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
The lizard's tail twitched.
The fox didn't move.
Only its ears tilted, catching the faint scrape of white scales sliding against one another.
The lizard's tightly coiled body slowly loosened.
A dry, rasping sound whispered through the still air.
Then—
Gold.
Its eyes opened.
Not violently.
Not sharply.
They simply… opened.
Blank.
Unfocused.
Still blind.
Inside its consciousness—
A voice echoed.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Unemotional.
Evolution complete.
Genetic adaptation synchronized.
Outwardly, the lizard did not react.
But its breathing changed.
Slower.
Deeper.
More stable than before.
It lay there for several long seconds, unmoving, golden eyes fixed on nothing.
The fox turned its head slightly to look at it.
It didn't rise.
Didn't retreat.
Didn't prepare to defend.
It simply watched.
"So," the fox said hoarsely, blood still clinging to the corner of its mouth, "you wake up now."
The lizard's pupils adjusted slowly.
It sensed movement.
A familiar aura.
The fox.
The fox exhaled quietly.
"You picked a good time."
Its voice wasn't mocking.
Just tired.
"You were almost killed."
The lizard's gaze shifted toward it.
It could smell blood.
A lot of it.
The fox noticed the look.
"Yes," it said flatly.
"That happened."
It shifted slightly and winced as pain flared through its side.
"You were breaking through."
"And she was trying to kill us."
A simple explanation.
No embellishment.
Silence stretched between them.
Then the fox added quietly—
"We survived."
A pause.
"For now."
A faint wind stirred through the sparse trees surrounding them, rustling brittle leaves across dry earth.
The lizard's aura felt different.
Denser.
Sharper.
There was something metallic threaded through its qi flow.
Not raw storm.
Refined storm.
Compressed.
Contained.
The fox's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You advanced."
Not a question.
A statement.
Late-stage Foundation Establishment.
In less than two weeks.
Abnormal didn't begin to cover it.
The lizard slowly pushed itself upright. Its movements were controlled but heavy with post-evolution fatigue, as though each motion had to pass through layers of unfamiliar resistance.
Its golden gaze remained steady.
Awake.
Aware.
Changed.
The fox studied it for a long moment.
Then said quietly—
"Next time…"
Its eyes hardened faintly.
"Try not to sleep while someone is trying to erase us from existence."
The fox's eyes suddenly widened.
"Huh… what the—what's this about?" it stammered, voice hoarse, shaking with disbelief.
It staggered back slightly, claws digging into the dirt for support.
"I thought… I thought I was starting to understand you," it muttered through clenched teeth. "And now you do this? How… how the hell did this happen?"
Its gaze snapped toward the lizard.
Golden eyes, still blank, still staring—but now there was something new.
White ears.
Small. Delicate.
Tufted faintly at the tips.
They twitched.
The fox's thoughts spiraled.
"…What the hell…? How does this even make sense?" it whispered, voice cracking. "It fell asleep. I left it there. And now it wakes up after three days—and it's grown ears?"
The lizard remained motionless at first, tiny body taut like carved stone.
But faint tremors ran beneath its scales.
A subtle shift.
A twitch of a claw.
A restrained wince.
A faint hiss slipped from its throat—not aggressive, but pained.
And then the sound struck it.
Not in the ordinary way.
Not from its own mouth.
But as if the fox's voice had been seized, amplified, and delivered directly into its ears.
The fox crouched.
It hadn't shouted.
It hadn't projected.
Yet every word it had spoken—its disbelief, its panic, its frustration—echoed inside the lizard's mind.
A tiny figure.
Blank stare.
Pain flaring in sharp pulses.
"…No… no, no, no…" the fox muttered, leaning forward, trembling. "How… how is this possible?"
It shook its head, blood still staining its muzzle, tail flicking in tight, agitated arcs.
The lizard's golden eyes blinked slowly.
The new white ears twitched again.
Pain rippled across its small frame.
It wasn't just awake.
It was responding in ways the fox had never anticipated.
The fox's voice—its unfiltered thoughts, its muttered disbelief—felt as though they were being funneled straight into the lizard's skull, amplified, inescapable.
"…This… this isn't real," the fox whispered, tail curling tightly around its body. "It can't be."
The tiny lizard whimpered softly, still staring blankly, distress flickering through its movements.
The fox lowered itself again, this time cautiously, every instinct sharp and uncertain.
"Okay…" it breathed, forcing its voice lower. Softer. "We survive Golden Core attacks. We survive spatial detonations. We survive everything."
A shaky exhale left its lungs.
"But this… this?"
It shook its head slowly, heart pounding erratically in its chest.
"This isn't how something like this works."
The lizard's blank stare didn't waver.
The fox's voice echoed faintly in its mind once more, as though reality itself had bent to accommodate a new and terrible rule neither of them understood.
Pain.
Confusion.
New senses awakening all at once.
And the fox realized—
It had no idea what it had just unleashed.