The next night begins like a wound reopening.
The forest feels different with Ember at my side. Her small paws crunch softly in the snow-crusted soil, her breathing ragged but steady. I move ahead of her, low and quiet. Every sound feels like a threat.
The System hums faintly in the back of my skull, always watching, always whispering:
«Bond synchronization: 12%.»
«Status: caretaker role assumed.»
«New subroutine available: Pack Formation Protocol (Lesser).»
Caretaker. That word almost makes me laugh. I'm barely holding myself together, and now I'm responsible for something else. But the pup depends on me, and that feels right in a way survival alone never did.
---
We find food where the forest dies.
A glade scorched by lightning, still smoking even after rain. Burned trees stand like skeletons against the gray dawn. Something heavy lies in the ashes—a stag, charred black but mostly intact. The smell should be unbearable, but to Ember it's life.
She hesitates before tearing into it, glancing back at me for permission. I nod. The human inside me cringes, but I let her eat.
«Entity Ember: nourishment restored.»
«Health: 87%.»
«Stability: rising.»
I watch her devour what's left of the carcass. The mechanical voice almost sounds proud. I wonder if that's how gods felt before they realized their worshippers were beasts.
---
When she finishes, Ember limps close and curls beside me. Her warmth seeps through my fur.
The silence between us feels sacred — like a shared dream of being more than what we are.
Then the System hums again, colder this time:
«Warning: anomaly spread detected.»
«Bond influence: emotional contagion.»
«Risk: deviation from instinctual behavior protocols.»
So now love itself is a system error.
I bare my teeth at nothing, and the air shivers faintly as if the forest itself heard me. Maybe it did. Maybe everything here listens.
---
By the third day, Ember begins to follow my movements with precision. She learns quickly—where to step, what to avoid, how to stay downwind of prey. Her limp fades faster than it should.
But something else changes too. Her eyes.
They're not the dull amber of wild pups anymore. They're glowing faintly, like mine.
«Bond synchronization: 28%.»
«Trait evolution detected: Shared Adaptation.»
«Effect: linked entities may mirror instinct-based skill growth.»
So she's becoming like me.
I should feel proud. Instead, I feel sick.
This world eats everything that tries to stay pure.
---
We cross a ridge the next night and find a clearing dotted with pale blue flowers—mana orchids, glowing faintly in the dark. The air hums with energy. My instincts scream danger even before the System confirms it.
«Environmental hazard: Residual Mana Field.»
«Warning: exposure may cause mutation or corruption.»
I almost turn back. But the orchids are beautiful in a way nothing here is—unbroken, untouched.
And for one quiet moment, I just watch them.
Ember does too. Her tail brushes mine.
That's when the ground moves.
Roots twist upward from beneath the flowers. Not plants—veins. The soil pulses like flesh.
A mouth opens in the dirt, lined with teeth made of bone.
Ember yelps. I shove her back as the ground erupts. A mass of tendrils surges out—wet, shining, alive.
«Hostile entity detected.»
«Classification: Mana Aberration (Corrupted Flora, Rank D).»
«Combat initiation imminent.»
The first strike nearly takes my head off. I roll, barely dodging. A tendril whips across my flank, drawing blood that hisses when it hits the ground.
Ember darts behind me, snarling. I can feel her fear through the bond—sharp, pure. The System flashes warnings in my vision.
«Pain inhibitors at capacity.»
«Suggestion: trigger combat instinct override.»
I refuse. I can't lose control again.
If I give in, if I let the System take over, I'll stop being me.
I dig in, dodge, bite, tear. Tendrils snap like rope beneath my jaws. The world narrows to movement and blood. The aberration screams—a sound like metal grinding bone.
But there are too many. The ground splits wider. Roots rise, thrashing wildly. One catches my leg, another my throat. I choke, clawing uselessly.
«Vital drop: critical.»
«Override suggested: 99%.»
«Activate?»
I don't answer.
Ember does.
She leaps onto one of the exposed veins and bites down. A flare of mana bursts through her body, lighting her from within. The air burns. She should die instantly, but she doesn't. Instead, her body shudders, and I feel it — power, pure and wild, surging through the bond.
The tendrils recoil. I tear free, grab Ember, and run.
---
We collapse near the river miles later. Ember is limp, but breathing. The glow fades slowly from her body, leaving burn scars across her fur.
«Entity Ember: exposure to corruption confirmed.»
«Mutation in progress…»
«Potential outcome: Stable deviation detected. Awaiting crystallization.»
"Stable deviation?" I whisper. My voice cracks, half human, half growl.
«Definition: Evolutionary divergence from base species caused by emotional imprint or mana overload.»
«Result: sub-species creation possible.»
I stare at her. She's twitching, feverish, but alive. Her breathing is steady.
This world wanted to consume her. Instead, she changed.
The System calls it mutation. I call it defiance.
---
Night falls. I sit beside the river, half-drenched, half-broken. The stars above shimmer like glass, as if the sky itself is a dome hiding something greater.
I look at Ember, at the faint pulse of light under her skin, and I realize something that terrifies me.
Maybe we're not escaping corruption.
Maybe we are the corruption.
Anomalies rewriting the rules of a system too ancient to notice yet.
And if that's true…
Then maybe that's the only way to survive here.
---
«Day Cycle 5 complete.»
«Bond synchronization: 41%.»
«Evolutionary pathway unlocked: Hybrid Apex (Anomaly-Class).»
«Condition: initiate first evolution sequence.»
The world hums. The air thickens. I feel something inside me stir—like the moment before lightning hits the ground.
And for the first time since I woke in this nightmare, I stop running.
I look into the dark and whisper,
"Then let's see what we can become."