The late-night wind howled, a biting hunter that whipped Silas's thin robes about him like frantic flags.
It was late autumn, teetering on the edge of early winter. The temperature had plummeted to a frigid ten degrees below zero, yet Silas, clad in his flimsy garments, felt no chill.
Could it be? Did dying once grant me some kind of frost resistance? The thought sparked a flicker of something akin to hope within him.
That's right! Every transmigrator gets a 'golden finger,' a special advantage. Is this mine? The notion sent a thrill of warmth through him. He was, after all, a veteran reader, a connoisseur of transmigration novels, well-versed in their tropes – theoretically, at least.
After a grueling trek of roughly a kilometer, Silas collapsed, his breath ragged, his legs refusing to carry him further.
Silas Sotos had never been a robust individual, and now, after at least two days without food, his strength was utterly spent.
Fortunately, the spot where he'd been dumped wasn't far from the city. From here, he could already discern the faint, flickering glow of gas streetlamps and the dark silhouettes of buildings on the city's edge.
Gasping for air, Silas forced himself to quicken his pace.
Awoooooooo!
Suddenly, a series of high-pitched, chilling wolf howls split the night.
Then, a faint rustling, a subtle friction in the tall grass behind him, reached his ears.
You cannot be serious! I survive freezing to death only to be eaten by wolves?! The thought, a jolt of pure panic, made him whip his head around. Through the reeds, he saw them: a pair of eyes, gleaming with an eerie, ice-blue light, fixed intently upon him.
Gulp. Silas swallowed hard. Without a second thought, he bolted.
As a former office worker, his experience with wolves was precisely zero. Being stalked, his only instinct was to run.
Run! Run faster! Reach the city, and I'll be safe! Terror lent wings to his feet, adrenaline flooding his system as he sprinted for dear life, pushing his exhausted body to its absolute limit.
Seeing Silas accelerate, the wolf behind him also surged forward with terrifying speed.
It was an age-old truth: two legs were no match for four.
Silas had no idea how far he'd run; all he knew was that his body felt like it was about to disintegrate.
The city lights were tantalizingly close. Just as a sliver of hope began to dawn, that he might actually escape, his foot snagged on a hidden stone.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Silas's eyes widened in horror, but he had no control. He pitched forward in a desperate, sprawling fall, face-planting into the snow, his mouth filling with icy grit.
Even as he fell, instinct took over. Silas twisted, scrabbling in the snow, his hand closing around a jagged rock. He landed on his back, weapon raised, ready to defend himself.
At least this way, he could prevent the wolf from attacking his vulnerable back.
But before Silas could even fully reorient himself, the wolf was upon him, a blur of motion accompanied by a gust of frigid air.
So fast! Are wolves in this world all this ferocious?! Silas stared, disbelieving.
The wolf landed heavily on his chest, its paws pinning him down. Those unsettling, luminous blue eyes stared down at him, cold and assessing.
Silas lay still, resisting the urge to struggle foolishly. Instead, he cautiously assessed the creature.
It was no small beast. It stood nearly a meter tall at the shoulder, perhaps one and a third meters in length. Its coat was a magnificent blend of textures: sleek, glossy fur covered its back and the crown of its head, black as polished jet. In contrast, its face, neck, underbelly, and legs were adorned with fur as white as freshly fallen snow, making it an undeniably beautiful, if terrifying, animal.
The wolf's paws shifted, pressing lightly against Silas's chest. It seemed to detect something. Then, its great, fang-filled maw opened, slowly descending towards Silas's face.
Silas clutched the rock tighter, his knuckles white, fighting to remain calm.
Stay cool. Not the time to strike yet. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to leap from his throat.
Seconds stretched into an eternity. The wolf's snout was inches from his face. The next moment…
The wolf extended its tongue and began to… nuzzle his face. Enthusiastically.
"What in the-?!" Silas froze, utterly dumbfounded by the slobbery assault.
This was not the behavior of a predator closing in for the kill. This was… a dog.
Hah! Hah! Hah!
Then he heard it: happy, panting sounds emanating from the wolf's great mouth, the kind of joyful exhalations a dog makes when greeting its beloved owner. It was incredibly affectionate.
By the combined light of the moons and the distant streetlamps, Silas, his body still rigid with adrenaline, peered closely at the "wolf" sprawled on top of him. A second later, he mentally slapped his forehead. "This isn't a wolf! This is a damn Husky!"
Black back, white legs, two distinct white spots above its eyes on the black fur, those piercing blue eyes, a long, narrow face, and ears pricked high – it was, unmistakably, a standard Siberian Husky.
This particular Husky was overwhelmingly enthusiastic, its tongue a relentless, slobbery engine of affection, licking Silas's face as if greeting a long-lost master.
Silas lay there, limp and exhausted, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. A wave of weary exasperation washed over him. "Good lord, nearly ran myself to death being chased by a damn Husky. That's got to be a first!"
As he spoke, Silas managed to lift his head slightly, looking at the Husky with a frown. "Silas Sotos didn't own a dog. Isn't this completely unfamiliar dog being a little… overly friendly? We don't know each other, do we?"
The Husky, having finished its facial ablutions, lowered its head and began to rub insistently against Silas's chest.
Silas, surprised by this behavior, asked, "What is it? Is there something on my chest?"
He reached up, his hand moving to the spot over his heart.
He froze. His expression turned to stone.
Because beneath his fingertips, he felt not soft skin, but something bizarrely hard and cold, with the texture of stone or crystal.
With a sudden surge of strength, he sat bolt upright. Frantically, he tore off his outer robe, unbuttoned his white undershirt, and stared down at his chest.
"Holy… This joke has gone way too far!" Silas couldn't process what he was seeing.
Where his heart should have been, there was no normal flesh and blood. In its place, nestled within his chest cavity, was a strange, ice-blue crystal.
This crystal pulsed with a faint blue light, eerily similar to the Husky's eyes. Within its translucent depths, a swirl of cerulean mist writhed and shifted.
And at the very center of the mist, he could just make out the faint, shimmering outline of what looked like a tiny bell.
The Husky, upon seeing this icy heart, yipped with joy, bouncing on its paws a few times before pouncing on Silas again, nuzzling him with renewed vigor.
Silas stared blankly at the sky, his hand stroking the Husky's soft fur as a chilling thought took root. "I don't know what caused this heart, but I'm certain this Husky and this heart are deeply connected. And this is definitely no ordinary dog."
Lost in thought, Silas gradually became aware of a strange sensation: the crystal in his chest was slowly, almost imperceptibly, retracting. When he looked down again, the ice-blue heart had vanished beneath his skin, which now appeared perfectly normal.
"This… this must be why I transmigrated, why I was revived, and why I don't feel the cold," Silas mused, slowly dressing and getting to his feet.
Awoof!
The Husky was now rubbing its head against his leg, its tail wagging furiously, a picture of goofy canine delight.
"Alright then, let's go." Silas crouched down, scratching the dog behind its ears, a soft smile touching his lips. "Meeting like this, it must be fate. Who knows, maybe you're like me, newly arrived in this world. If we're both strangers in a strange land, having a companion doesn't sound too bad at all."