The beginning of the sixth year – Thelha Ra'tha
Anthony looked down at his hand — rough, worn, layered in scars and calluses. A hand that no longer trembled, no longer hesitated. A hand shaped by six years of surviving in a world that never once let up.
He flexed his fingers slowly, feeling the creak of tired tendons and the bite of old wounds. Then he looked up — toward the red, stagnant sky that had loomed above him since the beginning. Since the moment he woke in this place.
It hadn't changed. Not once.
Same clouds, like bloodstains stretched thin. Same faint shimmer of ash falling like snow. Same crushing weight in the air — not from heat, not from altitude, but from something deeper.
"With this... It's been six years in total," Anthony mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair. It was matted and thick, the strands clinging together from sweat and ash. He patted it down as best he could.
His fingers scraped across his beard next — rough, uneven, and fuller than he remembered. A far cry from the clean-shaven kid who'd first woken up in this wasteland.
He angled his sword, catching his reflection in the dull metal. It wasn't much — a warped outline, smudged by grime and the slightest gleam of firelight — but it was enough.
He barely recognized the man looking back.
Sunken eyes. Scarred cheeks. Beard thick and wild around a face that looked like it had long since stopped expecting kindness. His hair, long and ragged, gave him the look of some wandering master from the old stories. The kind who spoke in riddles and knew how to teach you Spinjutsu on top of a mountain.
"...I look like someone who teaches ancient martial arts and disappears into smoke when he's done," he muttered, lips twitching into something close to a smile.
It faded quickly, but for a second — just a second — it felt like the weight in the air eased.
Then came the low, almost rhythmic breathing behind him.
Anthony didn't move at first. He just blinked at the reflection in his sword — at the faint outline of something tall, dark, and breathing where there should have been empty space.
A Pyre Dog.
He stood slowly, slipping the blade down from where it had been held as a mirror, now returning it to its proper role — a weapon. His grip tightened.
It was bigger than the last one. Much bigger.
But that was expected.
The stronger he became, the stronger the Pyre Dogs got. That was the system's way. A cruel, self-scaling joke with no punchline. Like it was watching him, measuring him, and adjusting the world just to keep the knife pressed against his throat.
At first, they were just beasts — four-legged, fast, and brutal. But over the years, some of them began to shift. Their posture. Their coordination. Their eyes.
This one stood almost upright.
It hunched forward, its long arms hanging low, claws twitching in anticipation. Its chest heaved with every breath, ember-like veins pulsing beneath charred skin. The snarl that followed was deeper than any he'd heard before — less a bark, more a growl that rumbled from the gut like it understood.
They were evolving.
At first, they were rare. Mutations, maybe. Aberrations. The system had marked them differently too — counted them as higher value targets for leveling, almost like mini-bosses.
But that was a year ago.
Now?
He saw them more often than not.
Like something was pushing them. Forcing their growth the same way it forced his.
Anthony stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as he loosened the tension in his arms. His eyes didn't leave the creature, and the Pyre Dog didn't move either — not yet.
"Bigger than the others," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "That fire trail along its spine… it's brighter. More stable."
He adjusted his grip on the sword's handle, the metal warm beneath his fingers.
Then he dashed forward — a blur of movement across cracked, sunbaked sand.
The Pyre Dog let out a shriek — part whoop, part cackle, part groan — before slamming both of its massive hands into the ground like a wild beast. The impact kicked up a sudden cloud of sand and ash, thick enough to choke on, blinding the field around them in a swirl of red and gold.
Anthony's boots skidded to a stop as he instinctively raised his forearm, shielding his face.
"That's a new one," he muttered, spitting grit from his mouth.
Then came the sound — a sharp shift in wind, a faint thud of movement against shifting sand. "…Behind me."
Velo. The thought triggered the skill.
In an instant, time bent — not enough to stop, but enough for him to see. Enough for his body to move.
The Pyre Dog's claw came down from behind, a swipe meant to split him from shoulder to hip. But Anthony was already twisting, dropping low, ducking under the attack as its burning claws sliced through the air just inches from his back.
He pivoted on his heel, dragging his blade in a tight arc.
The counter landed clean — a deep cut along the Pyre Dog's side. The creature snarled in pain, stumbling back through the clouded haze.
Thanks to the skill's passive, his reaction speed spiked — just enough to land a perfect counter. Velo's effect triggered too: not just faster reflexes, but bonus damage on perfectly timed hits. He felt it in the strike, like the blade was drawn into the weak point rather than forced through it.[1]
The creature growled again, but this time it hesitated.
Anthony didn't.
Cruor Anthony thought again as he did a horizontal strike against the Pyre Dog's stomach.
The Pyre Dog yelped — a guttural, twisted sound — as the flames along its spine flickered, dimmed… then surged again, wilder than before. Its eyes glowed, narrowed with something almost like anger. It lunged forward, swiping at him with renewed ferocity.
Anthony gritted his teeth and met the flurry head-on.
Steel rang out against claw. The Pyre Dog struck again and again, each blow heavier than the last, but Anthony blocked them all — his arms shifting, feet sliding, muscles absorbing the force through practiced motion.
He counted them.
Four. Five. Six.
The seventh strike came, faster than the rest — a brutal overhand slam meant to shatter his guard.
But it didn't.
His sword held. The weight pushed him back slightly, heels grinding into the sand, but he didn't break.
And then—
A pop-up blinked into view.
[ New skill created! ]
Just like before, another screen slid open beneath it:
[ Praevalidus: Guard — A defensive stance technique forged through repeated successful parries and blocks. Enhances stability, posture, and precision under sustained pressure. ]
[ Passive effect: Consecutive successful guards raise damage resistance and lessen stamina drain. After seven uninterrupted blocks, the next attack you receive suffers a 50% damage mitigation. ]
After dodging the next attack, Anthony struck back — fast, clean, deliberate — at the same moment the Pyre Dog attacked again, its claws raking across his side.
But something was different this time.
The hit landed, sure, but it didn't feel nearly as deep as it should have.
Thanks to his new skill, only half of the damage came through. And that alone was enough to confuse the Pyre Dog.
It froze for a half-second — just long enough for Anthony to capitalize.
Cruor, he thought again.
A wide, horizontal slash tore across the creature's throat.
The Pyre Dog yelped, its flames flickering wildly as it stumbled back, clutching at its neck. The sound it made wasn't a growl — it was something higher. More desperate. A whimper.
Without hesitation, Anthony stepped in and drove his blade through the creature's skull.
It jerked once, then dropped. Still.
A screen appeared, just as he'd come to expect when killing these… newer ones.
[ You have slain a {Superior Pyre Dog}! Experience gained. ]
His eyes locked on the word.
Superior.
They were evolving. That much was clear.
_________________________________
The ending of the 9th year – Thelha Ra'tha
Anthony sat hunched in a cave's far corner, chewing through a piece of Superior Pyre Dog meat. He didn't look up. He didn't need to.
This had become routine.
As usual — and it went the same for normal Pyre Dogs — he used the pelt to cook the meat. Even after death, the fire along their spine didn't fade away immediately. It stayed. Burning for a day or two.
The flame curled quietly beneath the slab of meat, casting dim, flickering light across the cave walls. Anthony watched it cook, tearing off another bite from the strip in his hand — tough, slightly gamey, but still edible
He leaned back, resting against the stone, letting the heat roll into his bones.
Nine years. Almost ten.
"Nine... years..." Anthony muttered, chewing slowly. The words left his mouth like something mechanical — like he'd said them a hundred times before, and each time they meant a little less.
He stared up at the jagged cave ceiling, eyes unfocused. The flickering firelight danced over the stone above like ghosts. "Will I... ever be free?" he whispered.
There was no answer.
There never was.
The meat in his hand suddenly felt heavier. Greasier. He looked at it, really looked at it — still steaming, still dripping over his palm — and something in his throat clenched. His stomach turned. He was about to throw it.
But before he could, the screen appeared.
A flicker of light in the darkness.
A new skill?
The screen buzzed softly in the still air, hovering just above the fire. A glowing reminder that even now, after everything, the system was still watching. Still measuring. Still there.
But the silence returned too quickly. Too completely.
His hand dropped.
Anthony didn't read the screen right away. He just sat there, letting the firelight carve shadows across his face — across the hollow of his eyes, the rough beard along his jaw, the old scar tracing his cheek like a reminder of something long forgotten.
He wasn't sure when it started — the talking to himself, the pauses between sentences stretching longer, the habit of repeating things just to hear a voice. Any voice.
Sometimes he thought he heard things. Footsteps. Whispers. Breathing that wasn't his. Sometimes he'd sit completely still, sword half-drawn, waiting for something that never came.
And when it didn't come?
He just... stood there, using the blade of his sword as a mirror just to see how utterly alone he was.[2]
Anthony then came to and looked at the glowing screen before him that slowly bloomed into five other screens, making him cover his eyes as he then slowly began to read.
[ New skill created! ]
[ Parvus Evolutio: Pyre Dog — Forged through over a decade of consuming nothing but Pyre Dog meat and blood. Prolonged exposure has begun to reshape your body — muscle, sense, and instinct — subtly bending toward the traits of the beast you've feasted on. The change is no longer reversible. The Pyre Dog isn't just in your diet… It's in your blood.]
[ Pyre Dog Adaptations Gained:
Enhanced fire resistance.
Sharpened olfactory senses.[3]
Increased muscle density for strength and heat endurance.
Vision adapted to low-light and smoke-filled environments.
Reflexive threat detection triggered under extreme stress. ]
[ Passive Effect: When below 30% health, damage output increases by 15%, and reflexes are heightened. Borissin and Foxian individuals may sense a strange familiarity in your presence. ]
[ Side Effect: Prolonged isolation and consistent Pyre Dog consumption have subtly altered your aura. Intelligent enemies may now perceive you as something not entirely human. ]
[ Additionally, because Pyre Dogs share the common ancestor with the Borisin and Foxians, your physiology is now vulnerable to Moonrage — a rare and unstable condition tied to both species, respectively. ]
It took a minute to fully register what Anthony had just read — and when it did, it hit like a slow-burning fuse snapping into flame.
He clenched his jaw.
He had remained himself. For so long. Through hunger. Through blood. Through pain. Through silence.
"For so long... I had remained me—and the system just... throws that away?" Anthony snapped as he grabbed the half-eaten slab of meat beside him and hurled it at the cave wall. It hit with a harsh smack, flattening completely, seared by residual heat that radiated from his palm.
The worst part wasn't the skill. It wasn't even the implications.
He already felt how he was already different.
The heat didn't bother him like it used to — not even close. It clung to his skin like a second layer, but there was no discomfort anymore. Just warmth. Familiar. Natural.
And the meat…
He could smell it — not just its presence, but its details. Which part it came from. How long it had been cooked. How raw the center still was. And it didn't just make his mouth water.
It made him hungry.
"Damn it... Damn it!" Anthony shouted, voice echoing off the cave walls. He slammed his fist into the stone beside him, cracking it.
Anthony looked back at the screens, and his eyes landed on the last one. As he looked and re-read the last one, some of his anger got replaced by curiosity.
"Borisin and Foxians?" Anthony muttered, narrowing his eyes as he studied the glowing text more closely. His voice still trembled with heat, but now it held a thread of something else—something sharper.
"I've never even heard of those before…" He leaned forward, re-reading it again.
"Common ancestor… Moonrage… What the hell even is that? And why am I just hearing about this now?" The screen pulsed softly, as if mocking him with its calm. Anthony clenched his jaw.
"So now I'm suddenly tied to creatures I've never seen, never fought, never even knew existed? And I'm vulnerable because of it?" Anthony gritted his teeth as he looked at the sreen even more.
"But then again…" Anthony's voice lowered, more thought than sound. "I've never seen either of them. Just… Pyre Dogs."
He stared blankly, something sour curling in his gut.
Nine years. Countless fights. And not once had he come across anything but them. No signs of these Borisin or Foxians — no tracks, no corpses, no hints. Just Pyre Dogs.
"Maybe they're... extinct?" Anthony muttered, the words dry in his throat.
His hand drifted to his stomach. A sharp twist of hunger clawed through him — stronger than usual. More urgent. Like his body wasn't just asking for food… but demanding it.
He stared down at the half-cooked meat near the fire. He'd eaten this a thousand times. It had never made his mouth water like this.
Not like it did now.
[1] I wrote this section in a somewhat confusing manner, so let me clarify what I mean when I mention the two passives.
In Anthony's skill, [Velo: Recast], in its description, it states that a timed execution boosts damage in the beginning, and when I mention this, you see that I state it as 'Velo's effect'. The skill's passive effect is what you see me do when Anthony unlocks a new skill. Otherwise, him gaining the skill by doing what he performs would be a little strange and meaningless unless it comes with some sort of benefit, which is the passive effect. The passive effect for [Velo: Recast] is that Anthony's Reflex timing is better and overall more reactive.
[2] For anyone curious about what's happening to Anthony, Anthony is dealing with the mental toll of being completely alone for almost ten years. Humans, by nature, are social creatures. And due to Anthony having no one around him, he often talks to himself, not out of habit, but because it’s the only voice he hears. His emotions are dulled, his thoughts are a mess, and his connection to time and reality is fading. As the years go on, the system feels more like a machine than a guide now, and even when he gets stronger, it doesn’t feel like progress, just survival.
[3] Olfactory senses refer to anything related to the sense of smell. In other words, it's the system in your nose that helps you be able to smell things.