Then a siren blared.
The sound ripped across the city, shrill and unrelenting, echoing between burning towers and fractured streets. It wasn't the wail of warning anymore, it was the call to war.
Through the smoke marched lines of soldiers. Their boots struck the ground in unison, a drumbeat against the chaos. Armor gleamed in fractured firelight: red and blue, two tides moving as one.
The red-armored carried weapons humming with faint sigils carved into the barrels, each bullet glowing faintly as if alive. These were infused with spiritual energy, forged for tearing through Netherkin flesh. When the rifles clicked into place, the air thrummed with their power.
The blue-armored bore heavier magazines, their weapons cold and efficient. Their bullets were designed for Malgeds, no glowing sigils, just raw, devastating penetration power. Together, the two halves of the army formed a wall of red flame and blue steel.
And at their front stood the commander.
His armor was a blend of both red and blue plates, streaked with golden stripes that caught the light like fire against midnight. His voice cut through the battlefield like a blade, carrying over the sirens, screams, and roars.
"Okay, soldiers, listen up!" His words snapped every head toward him. "Protect the people! Cover the medical team! Get to anyone injured and hold the line!"
His hand raised, the golden stripes across his gauntlet gleaming as if burning with his conviction.
"Protect the citizens with everything you've got! Do you hear me?"
A thunderous roar answered him as the army leveled their weapons, their discipline stark against the chaos of monsters and collapsing stone.
"Yes, sir!" the soldiers roared back.
The battlefield, once a storm of uncontrolled horror, now pulsed with the iron rhythm of war.
Gunfire erupted a heartbeat later. Red-armored troops opened fire first, their rifles glowing as spiritual bullets sliced through the Netherkins. Every shot cracked the air with a strange resonance, like steel scraping over glass, followed by shrieks as black bodies burst apart. The blue-armored line fired next, their weapons thundering with raw force, Malgeds collapsing under the rain of bullets, their pale ash-flesh shredded into dust and gore.
Behind them, the medical team pushed forward with precision. White-marked stretchers cut through the chaos, hands grabbing the wounded and lifting them away from the blood-slick square. Their shouts merged with the rattling gunfire, a grim rhythm of war and mercy.
For a moment, Miss Reyna felt the pressure in her chest lighten. Relief flickered across her face, brief, and fragile. Her eyes snapped toward Kevin, who stood frozen in place, wide-eyed, his knuckles white around from clenching his fists.
"Kevin!" Her voice tore through the chaos like a lash. "What do you think you're still doing here? Didn't I tell you to evacuate people?"
His body jolted as if waking from a trance. "Yes, Ma'am!"
His thoughts stumbled faster than his steps. *Should I call them away with sound?* The idea burned in his head – an order shouted, a signal carried through the smoke. But even as he thought it, the truth struck him. *No… the Netherkins and Malgeds would hear it too.*
Instead, Kevin pressed two fingers against his lips and let out a low, sharp whistle. It wasn't loud, and wasn't meant for human ears either. It cut like a thread of glass through the smoke, piercing the square.
Only the hounds stirred.
From alleys and side streets, their answering cries echoed, sharp barks, deep growls, beasts loyal only to the students. One by one, shapes bounded into view, claws striking stone, their glowing eyes fixed on Kevin's call.
No human ear caught the sound. It was too faint, no more than a whisper carried on the smoke. But the vibrations reached the hounds, slicing straight into their instincts.
One by one, the dogs erupted into motion. Barking, howling, their voices cut through the battlefield like a chain of signals. Some darted into the ice toward the injured, tugging at sleeves and cloaks with their teeth, urging them to rise. Others pressed against the sides of students and citizens who could still walk, growling and nudging until the message was clear.
Follow. Hurry up and follow me.
Those who understood didn't hesitate. They stumbled to their feet on the ice, clinging to each other, their eyes wide with terror. The first group moved, then another, and soon the square filled with the ragged beginnings of order.
Kevin kept the faint whistle steady, his fingers pressed against his lips, his eyes fixed in concentration. It wasn't loud, it wasn't meant to be.
The note trembled through the stones, weaving a map only the hounds could read. The dogs barked and howled in unison, their cries bouncing off the ruined buildings, forming a living chorus of direction.
One dog surged to the front, larger than the rest, its eyes glowing faint amber in the smoke. It became the spearhead, leading the others forward. Behind it, a thousand groups formed like rivers splitting from a source, each hound guiding its pack of terrified survivors from different streets.
"Follow the dogs! Follow the dogs!" voices rang out, desperate, echoing from lips that clung to hope. The words spread faster than orders ever could, and whoever saw a dog had to follow.
And Kevin erased the rest of the sound.
The sound of footsteps vanished, the frantic shuffles of the fleeing erased like chalk wiped from stone. The chaos of their escape melted into silence. Only the dogs' barks and howls remained, cutting sharp against the battlefield. The monsters turned at the noise, distracted, chasing the sound that echoed in every direction, while the humans slipped away unnoticed.
For the first time in hours, escape looked possible.
These weren't war hounds or trained beasts. They were just dogs, the strays that wandered alleys, the house pets once tied to fences or sleeping on doorsteps. Big and small, skinny and fluffy, black, white, patched and brindled, they all surged forward, answering Kevin's faint call.
Kevin guided them with precision, every whisper of his sound slipping into their ears. Through him, the animals found clarity. He showed them where the alleys opened, which streets were unblocked, which turns would keep the people safe. Every bark, every tug of a sleeve, every howl was an instruction.
'This way. Not that way. Run here. Stay low.'
The brilliance wasn't in shouting orders, it was in simplicity.
At each corner, the dogs barked, pulled, or herded. And when one human finally understood, grasping the meaning of those frantic sounds, they obeyed. They ran where the dogs led. Others, seeing them, followed. Then more. A wave of survivors spread outward like branches from a burning tree, guided by fur and instinct.
Kevin stood at the heart of it, eyes sharp, lips pressed to his fingers, his whistle faint but relentless. He was the quiet shepherd of chaos, evacuating the city through dogs.
And slowly, the square emptied.
The crowd poured down cracked stairwells and broken escalators, funneled by barking hounds into the yawning dark of an old underground train station.
The air was cooler here, damp with dust and oil, and for the first time since the chaos began, there was no fire overhead, only the hum of silence broken by shuffling feet and quiet sobs.
Waiting in the tunnels were squads of soldiers clad in armor, weapons raised. Their rifles gleamed with runes etched into the barrels, spiritual energy infused bullets ready to snap against Netherkin flesh if anything followed below.
The soldiers' presence steadied the shaken civilians, discipline, and order, the promise of protection.
The hounds barked once, sharp, before turning back up the stairs. Their claws clattered against the stone as they vanished into the smoke above, heading to fetch the next group.
Kevin didn't stop. His whistle remained steady, faint and almost invisible in the noise of panic. His eyes closed for a breath, his senses stretching outward. He could hear beyond what normal ears allowed, beyond footsteps, beyond screams. He caught faint vibrations, echoes of cries, the muffled shuffle of survivors trapped in different corners of the city.
He knew where they were. He knew which alleys still held air, which streets were choked with fire, which paths could guide them through. And with every subtle whistle, he fed the knowledge to the dogs.
Above, chaos still raged. But below, in this fragile pocket of safety, order was being restored, group by group, life by life.
And Kevin stood at the center of it, the quiet conductor of an impossible rescue, his faint whistle weaving through the ruins like a thread of hope.
The biggest threat; the colossus, the Malgeds, and the Netherkins remained chained to the battlefield where he stood. Around him were only the fallen, the dying, and those too broken to move. Everyone else was being drawn away, scattered through safe veins of streets.
The weight of the square pressed harder for those left behind, but Kevin's plan had worked. For now, the people were saved.
Through it all, Ms. Reyna's hand never left her wound. Blood seeped hot between her fingers, her vision blurring at the edges, yet she refused to close her eyes. She forced herself to watch.
Through smoke and flame, she saw the hounds weaving like shadows, tugging, barking, and herding people through the gaps in chaos. Survivors stumbled after them, fear in their eyes but movement in their steps, as if the dogs carried hope in their jaws.
Kevin's faint whistle was almost lost to the thunder of battle, but its effect was undeniable. The chaos bent itself around his direction, every group finding a path, every alley leading to life.
Despite the pain tearing through her chest, a small pride bloomed in her heart. Pride in the boy who had done what even she could not.
And in her fading mind, a thought whispered, bitter and tender at once:
Why didn't I summon you here sooner?
This young, marvelous boy, Kevin, was not the strongest of the strong. His deeds tonight might echo with the weight of legends, but he was no legend. To most, he was just Kevin Ardent, a normal boy.
No towering giant, no born prodigy of flame or shadow. Just a fifth generation, a master of sound, carrying the quiet resonance of his ability. A third-grade Exo-hunter, the same rank as Reen, nothing higher, nothing special – at least on paper.
And yet, here he was, weaving chaos into order with nothing but a whistle and instinct. What power could not do, Kevin had done with his wits, his courage, and his gift.
That was just a glimpse of how deep his mastery truly ran.