Chapter 101 – The Evolved Bond
For nearly three days, Kuro's body remained aglow—an ethereal radiance that once condensed into an orb was now slowly reshaping, returning to something more familiar. The glow pulsed, dimmed, and finally began to fade.
At last—
System Notification
Your bonding has evolved.
New form unlocked — Adult Form.
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As the last ripples of radiance dissolved into the air, silence swallowed the chamber. The glow that had once wrapped Kuro like a cocoon now faded, leaving only faint motes drifting lazily downward, as if reluctant to depart.
Moon leaned closer, his breath caught in his chest. His eyes scanned the little wolf with careful precision, every flicker of light on that fur examined like a scholar deciphering ancient scripture. But the more he looked, the heavier the crease between his brows grew.
He lifted Kuro gently, cradling him in both hands as though holding a fragile treasure. Turning the cub this way and that, he searched for something—any sign of awakening, mutation, or hidden marks that should have accompanied such a surge of essence. Yet all he found was the same sleek coat of black fur, the same round golden eyes gazing back at him.
Kuro, oblivious to Moon's rising doubt, only tilted his little head back, tongue poking out slightly as if curious why his mother seemed so serious. For a heartbeat, the two stared at one another in silence. The air was thick, tense on Moon's side, carefree on Kuro's.
At last, Moon exhaled and muttered under his breath, the words carrying both disappointment and confusion.
"Strange… nothing seems different. So this is what you call an adult form?"
His voice sharpened with intent, and he asked more directly, "Hey, Kuro. Do you feel anything? Something hidden inside you—knowledge, strength, anything at all?"
The cub blinked once, then twice, as though processing the words. His ears twitched, but the response that came was utterly childlike, carrying the blunt honesty of a sulky toddler.
"Wha powah? I dun feew anyfing! Wut awe you even tawkin' 'bout, hmph!"
Moon almost smiled despite himself, rubbing his temple. "Forget that. Try focusing on your meridians."
At the word, something inside Kuro stirred. The wolf's body tensed, golden eyes shutting tightly. The air quivered. And then, without warning, his entire form convulsed with a surge of power so violent it made the floor groan in protest.
Moon staggered back a step, shielding his face from the sudden windstorm that whipped out from Kuro's small body. It was not essence in the ordinary sense—it was raw, primal, like the heartbeat of an ancient beast finally stirred awake.
Crimson lines seared themselves across Kuro's dark fur, glowing as though molten veins had been carved beneath his skin. His small frame shuddered, stretched, bones cracking and elongating with a grotesque yet majestic rhythm. Muscles swelled, joints reformed, and with every breath he took, his body expanded.
The innocent roundness of his eyes sharpened into slitted orbs of molten gold, predatory and commanding. His fangs lengthened, gleaming with cold light, while his claws etched sparks against the ground as they grew.
In the span of mere breaths, the cub was gone.
What now stood before Moon was a fully grown black wolf, a creature that belonged not to the world of pets or companions, but to the realm of kings and nightmares. Its mane, long and wild, flowed like black silk caught in an unseen wind, every strand seeming to hum faintly with dormant power. The crimson etchings across its body glowed faintly, forming patterns like ancient runes—symbols of authority, of bloodline, of something far older than the multiverse itself.
On all fours, the wolf's head reached Moon's height. Its sheer mass radiated a suffocating aura, as though the chamber had suddenly grown too small to contain it. And when it rose onto its hind legs, its towering frame loomed like a polar bear poised to strike, shadows swallowing Moon in its presence.
Moon's heart thundered. He circled around slowly, awe plain upon his face, unable to believe that the tiny creature he had once bathed, carried, and fed could now manifest such majesty. The air seemed alive around the beast, vibrating faintly with the resonance of an ancient law.
At last, Moon extended a trembling hand toward the wolf's forehead. Every instinct screamed at him to retreat—this was no longer a cub, but a predator capable of tearing him apart in an instant. His fingers hovered, hesitant, bracing for a snap of jaws or a swipe of claws.
But the reaction that came was the last thing he expected.
The mighty beast let out a sound suspiciously close to a soft whimper and, with the grace of a spoiled pup, toppled onto the ground, sprawling shamelessly. Rolling onto its side, then its back, it exposed its vast, armored belly and wiggled slightly, waiting.
Moon froze, his expression caught between horror and absurd disbelief.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Yet the wolf's golden eyes gleamed with unmistakable expectation, a silent plea too familiar to deny. Tentatively, Moon placed his palm on the massive belly. And just like always, the great creature melted beneath his touch, tail thumping against the floor in pure, unguarded joy.
Then, a new voice resonated—not from the wolf's mouth, but directly within Moon's mind. It was deeper than before, rich and resonant, yet carried a tenderness that still belonged to the cub he knew.
"Mommy Moon… in this form, I cannot speak with my mouth. It also consumes too much energy. I'll return to my cub form now."
Before Moon could answer, the massive form shuddered. Crimson lines flared once more, then imploded inward. The majestic frame shrank rapidly, fur collapsing inward like burning parchment until, with a final flash of light, the wolf cub tumbled back into existence.
But the price was clear.
Kuro wavered on his tiny paws, golden eyes dimming as his small body sagged. The transformation had gutted him, drained every reserve his fragile vessel held. He swayed, on the verge of collapse.
Moon lunged forward and caught him before he could hit the stone floor, cradling him against his chest. His arms tightened protectively as he stared at the now-sleeping cub, whose breaths came shallow but steady.
Moon's expression darkened. His thoughts sharpened like blades.
That transformation… it's too costly. His body can't sustain it. Not yet. He needs time, growth, strength—or that form will kill him before it ever saves him.
Without hesitation, Moon pressed his palm gently against Kuro's tiny head. A ripple of essence shivered through the bond they shared, and the little wolf vanished into the folds of the Beast Space, sheltered from the storm that was about to come. Moon's expression lingered with a trace of softness, but as the cub's glow faded, his features hardened once more—stone set against the coming trial.
From his storage ring, he drew out a slender scroll bound in faded crimson thread. Its parchment was weathered, yet the aura it exuded was suffocating, as though ancient whispers clung to it like dust upon forgotten ruins.
Moon unrolled the scroll. Instantly, his vision blurred. The symbols inked upon the parchment were not words but living patterns, shifting and re-forming like serpents of light. They coiled into his mind without consent, tearing into the very fabric of his consciousness.
His breath hitched. For an instant, he swore he could hear voices—ragged chants, screams, and laughter layered together in a dissonant harmony. The knowledge didn't enter him so much as it violated him, ripping open his thoughts to carve itself in.
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System Notification
Technique acquired: Shatter Vein Art
Rank: Seven-Star Essence Technique
Nature: Unpredictable
Traits: Unstable aftermaths, devastating offensive potential
Note: This technique is not fixed. Its true form may evolve with user's mastery and experience.
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Moon's eyes flew open, pupils dilated. His breathing was ragged, his forehead slick with sweat. Yet within his mindscape, the technique had already rooted itself, vast and complex. Images unfolded—stances etched with unnatural precision, movements that bent the logic of flow, strikes that seemed to consume as much as they gave.
He lowered the scroll to his lap, hands trembling.
"So this is… the Shatter Vein Art." His voice was hoarse, reverent, and wary all at once.
Moon drew in a steadying breath, then crossed his legs upon the cold ground. Closing his eyes, he allowed the tide of knowledge to expand inside him. It wasn't like learning a normal martial art. This was invasion. Every posture, every angle, every fracture in rhythm played itself across his body as though forcing him to move. His meridians quivered under the imagined weight of the strikes. His bones ached with phantom impacts.
At last, he could no longer sit idle.
Moon rose.
He stood at the center of the hall . He raised his arm, body awkward at first, his stance like a newborn foal's. But as he moved, the current of the technique seized him.
He struck forward.
The air cracked.
Not from speed alone, but from the deliberate twisting of force, a disruption of natural flow that made his veins scream. His body recoiled as though glass had been hammered from the inside. Pain flared in his chest, racing through his meridians like wildfire. He nearly collapsed, but his teeth clenched, his will refusing surrender.
Again.
He drew back. Another stance. Another strike.
The hall echoed with sharp bursts, each motion accompanied by faint ripples in the air. Dust trembled across the tiles, pebbles skittering away as though fleeing the pressure.
The Shatter Vein Art was merciless. Every movement demanded more than his body wished to give. His muscles spasmed. His veins burned, as though they might snap under the weight of twisted essence. With each technique, it felt as though he was carving away his own life force. Yet—within that agony—there was power. Terrible, primal, raw.
Hours bled into the night. Moon's back glistened with sweat, his chest heaving, his hands trembling as blood trickled from split knuckles. But his eyes—his eyes burned bright.
Every repetition refined him. Every fracture in flow grew sharper, every unstable motion tamed by a thread more control. He swayed on the edge of collapse, but he endured. He persisted.
He exhaled slowly, voice low, resolute:
"This art will destroy me… unless I master it first."
And with that, Moon settled back into stance, ready to strike again, ready to fight both his body and fate. The night had ended, but his battle had only begun.
To be continued…