Las opened his eyes to find himself in a burning plain. The sky above was a bruised slate of gray clouds, streaked and lit by red and yellow lightning that ripped the heavens like hot knives. Las clutched Sifu's staff to his chest and picked his way across the scorched field. Heat shimmered off the ground; the air tasted of ash and iron.
Out of the haze, a demonic monkey appeared — eyes blazing a malevolent red, fur the color of embers, wearing a blood-red outfit. Its teeth were needle-sharp. In its hands it held a burning polearm, and it stared at Las with pure, blazing hatred.
Then—Las's eyes snapped open again. He was lying on a makeshift bed of leaves and wood. A gentle breeze ruffled the fur above him; shafts of sunlight filtered through the leaves and struck his face. Distant voices drifted close, muffled and low.
"Hey—hey, the monkey-head woke up!"
"Finally."
"Get up, monkey — we're not done yet. That tomato you threw in my face? I'll shove it up your—"
Above Las's head, three figures loomed. At first, the sunlight made their shapes hazy, impossible to see clearly. Then a drifting cloud swallowed the sun, and the light dimmed. Slowly, the figures came into focus—Skav, Piu, and Vroom—standing over him, staring down with mischievous curiosity.
Vroom sneered, his tone sharp and mocking as he gave Las a light shove.
Vroom: "Get up, monkey. We're not done yet. That tomato—you're gonna regret it."
Skav stuck out his tongue, pulling a grotesque face, his grin chilling.
Skav: "Maaai-moooooonkey?"
Las, drained and glassy-eyed, recoiled with unease, staring at him in horror.
Las: "Stop it—you're creeping me out, red squirrel!"
Skav: "I'm not a squirrel, idiot—I'm a red panda!"
Piu smirked, laughing under his breath as he glanced at Las.
Then—smack, smack, smack.
Eli stormed in, furious.
Eli: "Leave him alone!"
Skav, Vroom, and Piu all grabbed their heads, huge bumps swelling as they wailed with tears streaming, eyes squeezed shut.
Eli looked back at Las, now fully awake.
Eli: "Las—you're awake?"
But Las didn't answer. He just stared up at the sky, his face heavy with sadness.
Skav: "Let's leave him. It's not time yet to mess with him."
Vroom and Piu nodded, and the trio shuffled away. Still, Vroom cast one last glare at Las, his voice bristling with anger.
Vroom: "This isn't over, monkey."
Eli: "Shut it, white mouse!"
Vroom snapped back, livid:
"I'm not a white mouse!"
The trio left.
Las and Eli were alone.
Las turned his gaze, finally taking in the world around him.
A forest spread wide, filled with thousands of animals from Rock City. Squirrels scurried with buckets of water and food. Some creatures lay wounded on makeshift beds of wood and leaves. Out on the plain, little red pandas played together, their laughter carrying faintly through the air. Others were hard at work, raising crude shelters from branches and bark.
The sounds of life clashed—shouts of joy, cries of pain.
A badger sat apart, clutching a jacket in his paws, sobbing as he hugged it to his chest.
Las fumbled over his chest, fingers searching frantically for the papyrus.
Eli pulled the scroll free and laid it gently on Las's breast.
Las, his voice ragged and hollow from exhaustion, whispered,
Las: "Sifu is dead… I'm useless. I failed him."
Eli snapped, fierce and raw, wiping ash from her face as she leaned over him.
Eli: "Shut up, monkey-head. You're not useless. You couldn't have done anything — and you're not the only one who's lost people, do you hear me? I lost my parents. Thousands of animals lost those they loved. Vroom, Piu and Skav lost their parents too. Don't act like you own the pain. Now shut up and rest. We've got work to do."
Las pressed his hand over the papyrus, clenching it with a grip that trembled — silent, burying his grief beneath the weight of what he now had to protect
held the papyrus tightly, his eyes fixed on the sky in silence. Slowly, the sun broke through the clouds, its golden rays pouring down and bathing the forest in light.
closed his eyes, his face weary and worn. Eli reached out and gently brushed her hand over his head, a quiet gesture of comfort, as the sunlight fell across his tired face.
Down in Rock City, the Black Wolves dragged the lifeless bodies of animals into heaps, piling them into small mounds before setting them ablaze. The city that had once been full of life was now nothing but a grave of blood, fire, and broken ruins.
The Marshal sat in silence, his gaze cold and feral as he watched the devastation he had wrought. His right eye was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, while his left—the sickly green one—burned with fury and rage.
Suddenly, a terrified Black Wolf rushed forward, clutching something in his trembling hands: a strange transmitter shaped like a metallic dog's head.
The device growled low, its steel jaws rattling, signaling that someone was calling from the other end.
The Marshal hesitated for a breath, his expression tightening. Then he seized the dog-headed transmitter by its snout, prying the iron mouth open as he lifted it slowly toward his face.
The Marshal lifted the metallic jaws of the dog-shaped transmitter.
From within came a single, thunderous bark—"WOOF!"—echoing unnaturally through the air.
Inside the iron mouth, the dog's plastic tongue twitched, a crude speaker embedded into it, crackling with life
A heavy, guttural breath rumbled through the transmitter, thick and oppressive.
The Black Wolves tensed instantly, rushing in to form a circle around the Marshal and the dog-headed device, their weapons raised, eyes locked.
Then it came—the voice.
A chilling, distorted tone spilled out of the crude speaker, deep and rasping, dripping with madness, mockery, and venomous amusement.
Mysterious Voice:
"Heeey, little shit-puppy… Did you find the papyrus yet? What's taking you so long? Why are you dragging your paws? Where are you? You know I don't have time for games… Hey—puppy, are you even listening? I can't hear you…"
All the Black Wolves stood frozen—fear and dread written across their faces as the mysterious voice crackled through the transmitter.
The Marshal drew himself up, finding a brittle courage, and answered with a voice threaded with forced respect:
Marshal: "My lord… we still haven't found it. We have—evidence of where it might be and—"
The mysterious voice cut him off, a rasping, mocking laugh spilling from the speaker.
Mysterious Voice: "Do you hear yourself, you shit-dog? Do you hear? Do you hear? Do you hear? Do you hear? Hahaha—hah—hah—"
Then the tone snapped like a whip, erupting into furious, violent speed.
Mysterious Voice: "I will crush you. I'll rip out your ears, your eyes, your tongue. Where the fucking papyrus of yours is—where is it? I told you to find it—WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT?!"
The Marshal bows his head.
—Marshal—
"I will find him, my lord. I give you my wor-"
—Mysterious Voice—
"Find him — and remember, you shit dog: you are my property, my object. When an object breaks, we throw it away into the trash — just like you."
The radio-dog cuts off instantly, snapping its metal jaw down with brutal force.
The Marshal seizes the radio-dog and, with a savage heave, slams it into the ground — shattering it to pieces.
The Black Wolves stare at the Marshal, fear written on every face.
He shifts his gaze toward the old, crumbling town hall, then walks toward its ruined silhouette.
A wild, deep, and harsh voice bellows at the Black Wolves, "Don't just stare at me, fools — open the passage! We don't have time."