He laughed as he approached me slowly. Trying to savor the moment of his victory. It crawled under my skin and made every instinct shrink back.
"I wake up after thousands of years," he said, voice thick with amusement, "and even then, you still can't beat me, Cerberus. Now, stay still and let me eat you so you can sleep for another thousand years."
Cerberus?
The name slammed into me harder than any of his blows. The guardian of the underworld… three heads, a monstrous hound of legend. But the beast inside me—what little of it I had ever sensed—never showed more than a pair of eyes in the dark of my mind. No heads. Just snarling maw of fog tried to devour me in my dreams.
Why?
The question barely formed before pain dragged me back to reality. I tried pushing myself off the ground. My arms trembled. My ribs felt split open from the inside, each breath scraping through me. Strength poured out of my body in waves, abandoning me. The cold that crawled up my spine wasn't from the night.
My heartbeat hammered so fast it felt out of rhythm, a frantic drum inside my chest.
Then a voice cut through everything. Not the beast in front of me. Not him. Something older, something inside of me.
It was him.
"I will give you the power. Now, bring me his heart."
Heat flooded my veins as if my blood had been set on fire. My bones creaked, warped, shifted—sharp pain at first, then a terrifying, intoxicating rush. Something tore at my tailbone, forcing its way out of me. I arched off the gravel, breath snarling through clenched teeth.
Still lying there, I saw it rise over me—a massive tail, fur bristling, two meters long, black streaked with red, swaying like it had a mind of its own. It rooted itself into the ground and hoisted me upright with a surprising, almost gentle force.
My legs steadied beneath me. The world came back into focus.
Across from me, the man stood unmoving, backlit by the busted work lights that flickered in the wind. Dust drifted around him. His silhouette was all horns, muscle, and hunger.
And he smiled.
Not with panic. With excitement.
"So you still have tricks in your sleeve other than running, dog. Show me. Bring me the best of you, and I'll respond to you with my best."
My breath came rough, but steadying. "You're not attacking me while I'm still healing?"
He scoffed, almost offended. "You look down on me, dog. It would insult me—me, a warrior—to strike an unprepared opponent."
I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or call him insane. In my head, one thought echoed loud: Is he stupid, or completely full of himself? If I were in his position, I would never let an opponent recover.
My sleeve tightened. I glanced down—fur was spreading across my arm, black and red threading through my skin like wildfire. My nails lengthened, curving into claws. I felt my canine teeth press painfully against the inside of my mask.
I grabbed the zipper and tore the lower half open.
Cold air hit my bloodied mouth. Fangs gleamed in the dim light.
It took only seconds for everything to finish knitting itself back together. Too fast. Too wrong. Power crackled around me, rising like a mist—no, not mist. Aura. Thick enough to distort the air.
I stepped forward, and the gravel trembled under my claws.
"Your pride will be your death," I said.
He laughed, deep and thrilled. "Death or not, my pride will burn all over my body."
We charged at the same time.
Claws met his fist—the impact detonated sparks between us. Gravel shot outward in a burst. The force shoved me back several steps, boots grinding trenches in the dirt.
He was stronger. Even with this new power, he pushed through my guard like I was nothing.
I lunged again. Claws slashed through the air. He swung in reply. This time, I didn't contest him head-on. My tail snapped out, coiling around his forearm and halting it just long enough.
My claws raked across his side.
Sparks flashed on impact.
My heart sank. His skin didn't break. Not even a scratch.
I jumped back, lungs tight.
He let out a booming laugh. "It takes more than that to hurt me, dog!"
Then he charged again, hooves shaking the earth with each stride.
I didn't stay put. Speed was all I had. I pivoted and bolted sideways, tail whipping out to seize a bundle of rebars and fling them toward him with enough force to whistle.
He swiped them out of the air like twigs and kept coming.
His fist cut the space where my head had been a heartbeat earlier. I dove low. Dust exploded behind me. His hoof followed, a brutal upward strike—aimed to pulp my skull.
My tail coiled, pushing me upward like a spring. I flipped over him and kicked him square in the face.
My foot connected with solid bone.
But he only smiled, even as my heel pressed against his cheek.
"Is that all?" he asked.
His hand shot up and clamped around my ankle. Before I could tear free, he swung me like discarded trash. The world blurred—sky, dirt, broken machinery—until my back slammed across gravel. I skidded meters, tail digging into the ground to keep me from tumbling again.
My body vibrated with the impact. Dust filled my lungs. Every instinct screamed at me to move.
He was already charging.
Damn it. How do I defeat this monster?
The question hit me harder than the crash ever could.
I pivoted and sprinted toward the scattered rebars. My tail ripped three of them out of the ground before my hands could reach. The metal screeched against concrete as the bars tore free.
He kept coming.
Good.
I spun, tail whipping the rebars like javelins. They screamed through the air, bending from the force.
He tore through them. Some snapped against his forearms. Others bent against his horns. One spear drove into his shoulder—but the metal crumpled, not his flesh.
He grinned, eyes bright with hunger. He continued charging.
I moved before he could reach me. I dashed toward the nearest column of half-set concrete. Scaffolding rattled as I leapt up the side, claws ripping shallow grooves in the steel supports.
He rammed the pillar outright.
The entire structure shuddered. Dust rained from the upper frames. Bolts squealed. The column cracked—then split—before collapsing in on itself. I leapt clear, landing on a mound of gravel as the debris thundered behind me.
He emerged from the dust cloud, unhurt, his steps deliberate, almost rhythmic. He was enjoying this. He liked watching me scramble.
Fine. Let him watch.
I darted between stacks of concrete blocks. My tail snapped out, kicking up a cloud of dust to blur his vision. I dropped my steps light, circling behind the old concrete mixer he'd smashed earlier.
Its drum hung twisted and dented, but the thick metal frame still stood. I grabbed the handles and shoved with everything I had. My strength wasn't enough—until my tail braced against the ground and pushed with me.
The mixer toppled.
He looked up sharply as the machinery crashed down toward him.
He didn't dodge.
He met it with a fist.
The impact detonated like a car crash. Metal folded like wet paper. The mixer skidded away, crumpled beyond recognition.
He slipped through the sand and paused.
Just a heartbeat. But enough for me to notice.
He's hurt.
He planted his foot harder on the sand to brace, shifting more weight onto one leg.
My eyes lit with excited.
He wasn't invincible. He just knew what he could tank and needed both legs solid under him to break things. And with sand surrounding him, my chance of winning is higher.
I dashed toward the unfinished foundation where thick, vertical rebar clusters protruded from the concrete. My claws slashed through the fastening wires. The rods spilled loose, clattering like bones. I grabbed an entire bundle with my tail and swung them in a wide arc.
The metal whistled as it whipped through the air.
He dodged left—instinctive. Not like before. He was no longer meeting everything head-on.
He moved on one leg, the other planted harder than usual. Still recovering from bracing the mixer.
I saw it.
His weight was committed.
I lunged low, claws scraping across gravel. My tail lashed behind me, flinging a final rebar like a spear—not to pierce him, but to make him shift.
He raised his arm to swat it.
His planted leg bent.
I dove at his other leg, claws driving into the ground for momentum, and slammed my shoulder into his knee with all the force the transformation gave me.
He staggered.
Actually staggered.
The ground shook as he caught himself on one hand. Shock flashed across his face—a crack in the arrogance, small but real.
There. That was it. He needed stability. He needed a foundation.
He wasn't a monster made of stone. He was a monster that relied on it.
I circled, keeping low, watching the way he adjusted his stance. He growled, but not the confident rumble from earlier. This one carried irritation. Maybe even caution.
"How…" he muttered, eyes narrowing. "A dog learning tricks?"
I didn't answer. My lungs heaved. My arms trembled from the blows earlier, but the aura radiating around me kept me steady. My tail swayed behind me, heavy and alive.
He rose back to full height, but slower this time. Testing his balance. Testing me.
"You found something," he said. "I can see it in your eyes."
I didn't deny it.
His stare hardened. "Then come. Show me if you have the wit to make use of it."
I stepped forward, claws sinking into the dirt.
Now I knew where to hit.
Now I knew how to bring him down.
I tightened my stance, lowering my weight the same way I saw him do. My claws dug into the earth.
I targeted his legs. His balance. His foundation.
Take that, and his strength meant nothing.
I moved first.
I shot forward, aura trailing behind me like smoke. As he braced, I feinted left, then cut right, aiming low. My claws slashed across his shin—metal shrieked as sparks jumped off his hide. Not a cut. Not even a dent. But he flinched. His knee dipped.
Good.
I drove my shoulder into his thigh. The impact vibrated through my bones. He staggered a step—only a step—but the ground trembled under the forced shift of his weight.
His eyes widened for a heartbeat.
"You—" he growled.
I didn't let him finish. I ran behind him and leapt, tail launching me upward. My foot hammered the back of his knee. He snarled as his leg buckled. He dropped to one hand, catching himself before he collapsed.
I hit the ground and didn't stop. I rushed again, claws scraping the dirt as I darted toward his other leg. He swung an arm at me, but it was wild—he needed both legs grounded to hit properly. I ducked under his forearm and slashed at the tendons above his hoof.
This time, he roared.
It wasn't pain—it was outrage.
He spun, sweeping his arm out. Even off-balance, the force of the swing was monstrous. The air pressure alone threw gravel into my face. I shielded my eyes and jumped back, boots skidding across the loose earth.
He planted both feet again, breathing hard. His stance shifted—more guarded, more deliberate.
"You think you found a weakness," he snarled, chest rising and falling. "A trivial flaw."
"It's working," I said.
My voice sounded rougher. The tail behind me lashed the air with impatience. My aura hissed along the ground like steam over ice.
He laughed, but the sound shook. "Puppy… you have no idea what you're provoking."
I tensed. Something in the air changed—pressure, thick and heavy, like the atmosphere right before a thunderstorm breaks.
He spread his arms wide, chest expanding. The ground cracked beneath his hooves as if struggling to hold him upright. Gravel lifted from the dirt, suspended for a breathless moment, then blasted outward in a violent shockwave.
I shielded myself, tail curling around my body to take the brunt. The force rattled my teeth and shoved me backward until my heels dug trenches in the soil.
His aura exploded—raw, burning, ancient.
Not the faint haze from before. This was a storm.
Thick steam blasted from his nostrils. His skin rippled, muscles swelling. Veins turned black, twisting under the surface. His jaw cracked unnaturally wide. Horns curved upward, longer, sharper, jagged with ridges like weathered stone. His fur thickened in dark waves, swallowing the last scraps of his clothes.
His face—
His human face—
Disappeared.
The nose collapsed into a snout. His teeth reshaped into carnivore fangs. His eyes burned red, glowing like coals buried under earth for centuries.
When the transformation settled, standing in front of me was no half-breed.
He was a full minotaur—towering, monstrous, radiating heat and hunger like a furnace about to erupt.
His voice came out deeper, layered with something ancient and violent.
"Your tricks end here, dog."
He stomped once.
The earth caved in beneath his hoof.
And I realized the advantage I'd managed to claw out meant nothing now.