His body still throbbed with the memory of being crushed. Every flick of his tail was pain.
But his scales glimmered crimson now, each plate soaked in blood, hardened through suffering. Blood Scales. His first true evolution.
It wasn't enough.
Not even close.
He had endured, yes. Survived. But survival was a mockery if he remained this weak. Mari's face lingered in fractured memory, Ian's broken body haunted him, and Rakkel's sacrifice roared endlessly in the dark of his mind.
I need more.
—
The river flowed on, but his mind sank into the System's cold machinery.
[Skill: Blood Scales]
[Status: Active]
[Effect: Defense rises with damage. Enemy nerves dulled by blood contact.]
He already knew this. He needed more. How do I grow stronger?
[Paths available.]
[Option One: Endurance. Adapt through hostile environments.]
[Option Two: Domination. Establish dominion. Harvest strength through subjugation and slaughter.]
Domination…?
[Yes. Claim a turf. Make it your own. Gather strength from all who fall within it. Available option: the river.]
His thoughts swirled, savage and hungry. His own river. His own domain.
"Yes," he whispered into the current, though no sound left his lips. "Then the river is mine."
—
And so began the years of blood.
He prowled like a curse. Fish, eels, river beasts—anything that moved—he tore apart.
Bounce darted him through claws and jaws. Bite ripped throats open. Blood Scales turned wounds into weapons, his blood numbing predators until they convulsed helplessly before he ended them.
The river ran red, more blood than water.
At first, he killed to survive. Then to grow. Then to claim. Soon, he killed because the System whispered:
[Domination expanding.]
Piece by piece, the river bent.
Minnows scattered at his shadow. Eels abandoned their holes. Pike and gar fled at his passing.
The koi who once bounced helplessly off hooks had become a lord of slaughter—a tyrant of the river.
—
But with each victory, something slipped away.
At first, he remembered why. Mari's laughter. Ian's red cord. The burning of the village.
But years drowned those memories. Mari's smile blurred. Ian's voice faded into static. Rakkel's sacrifice dulled into echo.
Until one night, beneath a dead moon, he reached for Mari's face in memory—
And found only a void.
The koi froze, hollow spreading in his chest.
Why am I fighting?
No answer came.
—
His strength grew, yes. Blood Scales toughened, poison sharper, movements quicker. But no new skill awakened.
He crushed himself against sharper rocks. He lured larger monsters to battle. He let his body be torn again and again, begging the System for another gift.
Nothing.
No new words.
No breakthrough.
No miracle.
Nothing.
His rage boiled into despair. Why? Am I already at my limit?
For the first time in years, he called to the System not with fury but with dread. "Why can't I advance?"
—
The answer was colder than the grave.
[Growth recorded. Advancement halted.]
[Requirement unmet: Bond. Without bond, stagnation.]
His heart spasmed. "What requirement? I've bled for years. I've slaughtered everything in this river. What more do you want from me?!"
But the System gave no further answer.
Mari's smile—gone.
Ian's fire—ash.
Both lost to time.
The koi drifted, crimson scales leaking faint light, the river whispering past.
He had conquered. He had slaughtered. He had ruled. But without a tamer, he was nothing more than a tyrant chained to water.
A king of bones and silence.
—
He sank into the dark, crimson glow flickering faintly from his scales. For the first time in years, he stopped moving.
The river he had claimed whispered around him. A throne of blood.
But Mari's laughter no longer reached him. Ian's warmth no longer steadied him.
And for the first time since her death, he felt fear.
Not of dragons.
Not of hunters.
But of erasure.
Weak.
Alone.
Lost.
The System whispered one last line before falling silent:
[Bond or stagnation. Choose.]
The koi closed his eyes, scales burning red, body trembling.
And in the darkness, he felt the weight of everything he had gained—
And everything he had lost.
Even so, the koi understood: dreams were not a bond. A bond meant more. This was only the first crack in the door — a way to reach, not a way to grow.