CRASH!
The earth shuddered as if struck by a magnitude-7 earthquake. The Dreadwing plummeted, its gargantuan frame plowing through the asphalt, carving a jagged trench dozens of meters long before grinding to a halt.
Billowing dust blotted out the world. From the haze, a colossal head emerged—larger than Thien Anh's entire body. Burning golden eyes, fueled by pure malice, swept the ruins, hunting for the tiny prey that dared to challenge the sovereign of the skies.
"Now!"
Thien Anh didn't wait for it to recover. He bolted from cover, his submachine gun screaming as it spat lead.
RAT-TAT-TAT!
But the creature's slick, leathery hide was unnervingly resilient. Standard rounds merely left shallow indentations or ricocheted away in a shower of sparks.
The monster shrieked in pain—not from the wounds, but from the insult.
"KIEEEEE!"
It swept its right wing in a devastating arc. The wing wasn't just flesh and bone; its edge was as keen as a massive razor.
SNAP!
An ancient palm tree by the road was sheared clean in half. The trunk toppled, nearly crushing Thien Anh. He threw himself into a roll, coming up coated in grit and dust.
The beast unhinged its elongated beak, snapping forward like a bolt of lightning. Thien Anh reflexively yanked the pin from a grenade and hurled it straight into the gaping, crimson maw.
BOOM!
A muffled detonation roared within its throat. Black smoke billowed from its nostrils. The Dreadwing howled, thrashing its head violently. Its steel-hard beak cracked, blood spraying in torrents, yet... it still lived.
"Monster!" Thien Anh hissed, sweat stinging his eyes. The vitality of this prehistoric nightmare was beyond comprehension. He reached for a second grenade. This had to be the end.
Click.
The safety lever flipped. Thien Anh threw it with every ounce of strength. But fortune turned her back on him. The grenade struck a broken fang, bounced off, and rolled feebly to his feet.
"Damn it! A dud!"
Thien Anh's heart froze. It didn't explode. Either a malfunction or a faulty fuse.
No time to curse. He spun on his heel, sprinting desperately toward the nearby Grand Opera House.
Behind him, the sound of talons scraping against the pavement—skreee... skreee...—sent chills down his spine. Unable to take flight in the narrow alley, the Dreadwing used its wings as forelimbs, crawling in pursuit. It looked sluggish, yet each lunge covered ten meters of ground.
The massive, iron-wood doors of the Opera House loomed ahead. Thien Anh dove through the narrow gap.
THOOM!
The entire wall and the doors collapsed as the beast rammed into the structure. It forced its massive head into the main lobby, masonry and plaster raining down like white ash.
Because of its sheer bulk, the monster became wedged in the entrance. But it refused to relent. Its long neck snaked inward, its shattered beak snapping repeatedly, missing Thien Anh's back by mere inches.
The stench of rot from its gullet made Thien Anh's stomach churn.
"Hungry? I'll give you a goddamn feast!"
Thien Anh skidded to a halt behind a massive pillar, calmly drawing his final cluster of three grenades. He yanked all three pins with his teeth, counted two heartbeats, and tossed them straight into the jaws of death.
"Swallow this!"
This time, there was no room for error.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Three consecutive blasts resonated within the confined hall, creating a localized shockwave.
The Dreadwing's head detonated like a pulverized melon. Blood, brain matter, and skull fragments splattered against the ceiling, painting the opulent crystal chandeliers in a grisly crimson.
The massive body outside gave one final, violent twitch before collapsing into absolute stillness.
Thien Anh panted heavily, leaning his back against the stone pillar, wiping the foul gore from his face. He stared at the headless carcass and let out a cynical, jagged breath.
"Quiet now, aren't you?"
Just then, a black blur flickered past him.
It was Ki. He lunged at the carcass, beginning to tear into the flesh with savage hunger.
But what caught Thien Anh's attention wasn't the beast's gluttony—it was the transformation unfolding before his eyes.
As Ki devoured the meat of the high-tier predator, his frame began to contract, becoming leaner and more aerodynamic. Sinewy muscles became sharply defined; tendons stood out like steel cables. His abyssal fur took on a metallic sheen, as if plated in liquid obsidian.
And then, his eyes. The blood-red frenzy faded, replaced by a deep, crystalline jade—piercing, silent, and... brimming with intelligence.
Thien Anh stood frozen, his eyes wide. He had witnessed many anomalies, but this accelerated ascension defied every biological law he knew.
Ki stopped eating. He turned his head, looking directly into Thien Anh's eyes. It was no longer the gaze of a loyal, simple-minded dog. It was the gaze of a peer, a comrade who understood the weight of the world.
Ki's throat vibrated. The vocal cords that once only knew how to bark were twisting, restructuring to produce complex phonemes.
"Kh-uk... Master."
The sound was deep, gravelly, and jagged—like metal rasping against metal—but every syllable was clear. Thien Anh went numb. His gun clattered onto the floor. The world seemed to stop spinning. Only the frantic thrumming of his heart remained.
"Ki... You... You can speak?" Thien Anh's voice was a fractured whisper.
Ki looked at him, his jade eyes narrowing in a distinctly 'human' smile. He bared his brilliant white fangs and repeated the words, more fluidly this time:
"Master!"
A tidal wave of emotion surged through Thien Anh. The crushing loneliness, the haunting dread of existing as a ghost in a dying world, vanished in a heartbeat. He was no longer alone.
The bridge of his nose stung. His vision blurred. Thien Anh was an assassin; he wasn't allowed the luxury of weakness. Yet, two scalding tears carved tracks through the grime on his scarred cheeks. He covered his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking as he fought back a choked sob.
He lunged forward, throwing his arms around Ki's massive, gore-stained neck.
"Good... This is good..."
After a long silence, Thien Anh finally composed himself. He wiped his eyes and looked at Ki—now a completely transcendent being. It was the pearl, and the flesh of these high-tier nightmares.
Thien Anh placed his hand on Ki's head, stroking the fur that felt as tough as tempered steel.
"You're no house dog anymore. From this day on, I'll call you Thien Lang. The Celestial Wolf."
He looked deep into those jade eyes and asked softly:
"What do you think of that name, Ki?"
The massive black wolf nodded, his gaze shimmering with a new-found pride.
"It is... acceptable."