The sun had already set outside the fortified base of the Chinese Authority, yet the dormitory buildings glowed under the pale white floodlights that lit up the compound. Soldiers patrolled in perfect order, their footsteps rhythmic, their weapons gleaming under the metallic shine of the night. For the inheritors saved from the forest stampede, it was the first time in weeks that safety felt real.
The storm of meteors, the chaos of the stampede, the stench of blood, and the suffocating cries of beasts were now behind them — but the memories clung to their minds like shadows that refused to fade. The Authority had spared no effort in placing all the inheritors into clean soldier dormitories, each small but well-equipped room having a bed, a desk, and basic supplies.
Most inheritors had collapsed into deep sleep, unwilling to think of what awaited them next. Others, with haunted eyes, sat silently in corners, staring at walls as though seeing the monsters again.
But in one particular room only one bed filled the other empty, silence had taken a different shape.
The giant body of Dawon lay curled near the wall of that room, his massive frame pressed against the ground. His golden eyes were half-closed, but every now and then they flickered open, restless. Beside him, Dev sat stiffly on a chair. His fingers fidgeted, drumming against the armrest, his eyes shifting every few seconds toward the bed.
Om lay there. Still. Peaceful. His chest rising and falling steadily, but unconscious nonetheless. The medics had said he would awaken within a day. It had been a full day now. Dev counted the hours, then the minutes, then the breaths.
"…Wake up soon, Om."
Dev muttered the words under his breath, his voice too soft to disturb the silence but heavy with impatience. He didn't like being alone with responsibility. Not like this. Without Om's sharp mind and boldness, Dev felt exposed.
The silence broke with a knock.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Dev blinked, startled. Dawon's ears twitched, and a low rumble rolled from his throat. Dev stood quickly, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes as he moved toward the door.
When he opened it, the man who stood there wasn't someone he recognized.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in an immaculate military uniform, the man's aura pressed forward even before his words did. His black hair was slicked neatly, his face clean-shaven, but his eyes… sharp, narrow, like blades that measured and dissected without mercy.
"Are you Dev?" the man asked, his tone calm yet commanding.
"Yes…" Dev hesitated, uncertain. "And you are—?"
"You don't need to be nervous," the man said, a faint smile tugging his lips though his eyes did not soften. "I am General Wo Zhen. This sector of the Forbidden Zone falls under my command. Which means every incident within it, every anomaly, every death… is my responsibility."
Dev stiffened. A general…? He hadn't expected someone of that rank to personally appear before them.
"I wanted to have a chat with you," Wo Zhen continued. "You and your friend were found closest to the forest incident. That makes your account important."
Dev swallowed, then forced himself to stand straighter. "I already told the officers everything I know. There's nothing more for me to say."
He tried to close the door.
But before it could shut, a polished boot pressed into the gap, stopping it. Wo Zhen's expression didn't change, but his voice lowered, almost casual.
"Hey, kid. Listen to me. I don't want an interrogation. I want a friend's chat, to comfort you. The incident happened in my territory. I am responsible. Negligence… is a bitter taste to swallow."
A soft growl rolled through the room. Dawon had risen, hackles bristling, his golden eyes locked on the intruder. The lion's growl wasn't just warning — it was the echo of wild dominance.
Before Dev could speak, a faint voice came from the bed.
"…Dawon."
Dev spun around, his heart leaping.
Om's eyes were open.
"Om!" Dev rushed to his side. "You're awake—! How are you feeling?"
Om pushed a hand to his forehead, his movements sluggish but steady. His voice, though soft, carried its usual calm. "I'm fine. Just… a little tired."
General Wo's gaze sharpened as he stepped fully into the room. "Good. A strong kid indeed."
Dev suddenly realized the door was still wide open. Too late now.
Om turned his head toward the stranger. "Who's this?"
General Wo inclined his head slightly. "General Wo Zhen. Commander of this sector. And… someone very curious about you."
Om sat up slowly, eyes flicking toward Dawon. The lion hadn't relaxed, still poised between protectiveness and hostility.
Wo Zhen's lips curled into a smirk. He looked between boy and beast with amusement.
"So you're the pair Captain Bhanu told me about," he said. "But something doesn't add up. According to his reports, the lion was weak. Skinny. Barely alive. And you—" he eyed Om carefully, "—were said to be strong but a little lean. Yet now…"
His gaze lingered on Dawon's rippling muscles, then on Om's sharpened features and steadier posture. "Now you both look… buffed. Different. Are you really Om and Dawon?"
Om and Dawon shared a brief look. Silence stretched.
Finally, Om's calm voice broke it. "A lot happened in the forest."
"In two months?" Wo Zhen raised a brow. "This kind of transformation is… unnatural."
Dev bit his lip. The general's suspicion was valid. Too valid. He didn't dare say a word.
The silence thickened.
Om finally spoke again. "I inherited a broken inheritance. My abilities vary. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they backfire. During the forest expedition, Dawon and I went through changes neither of us expected."
Wo Zhen's eyes narrowed. "Be specific."
Om didn't flinch. "A part of my inheritance grants me temporary enhancements. Speed. Strength. Defense. But it can't be sustained for long, and the backlash is severe. Dawon, however… has a passive ability. He can share my inheritance. Continuously. And the effects are reflected back between us."
The room went utterly silent.
Dev blinked, realizing this was the first time Om had admitted even a piece of his truth aloud. Dawon lowered his growl, golden eyes softening as if confirming his master's words.
General Wo's face betrayed no emotion. He studied Om, studied Dawon, studied the faint bond that seemed to pulse between them. His smirk faded into something colder.
"…Interesting."
His voice was flat, yet underneath it was the weight of suspicion, calculation, and perhaps a dangerous kind of intrigue.