The moment they returned to the bunker, Ki erupted into a frenzy of barks, propping himself up to demand Thien Anh open the backpack. Moc was no less eager, her triangular head darting and rubbing against the bag where the "spoils of war" were stashed.
Thien Anh grabbed Moc by the tail and yanked her back, his voice stern: "Hold your horses! We don't know if this is a miracle cure or straight-up poison. You looking for an early grave?"
But the two creatures seemed drawn by an invisible, magnetic pull from the mutated heart. They circled his legs, whimpering and hissing in persistent supplication.
"Fine. I'll run a test first." Thien Anh took the bag to the ventilation area near the emergency exit. He sliced a small sliver from the Magma Tiger's heart and placed it inside a wire trap.
Less than fifteen minutes later, a scrawny, skeletal stray cat slunk over. The irresistible scent of the glowing meat overrode its natural caution; it lunged into the cage and began devouring the morsel.
Thien Anh watched patiently through the camera feed. One hour. Two hours. The cat remained alive, even falling into a deep, peaceful sleep. But by the next morning, the true transformation began.
The gaunt stray from yesterday was gone. In its place stood a creature of corded muscle, its fur standing stiff and glossy like porcupine quills. Its size had increased by half.
When Thien Anh released it to gauge its temperament, the cat hissed instantly, launching itself at Moc, who was coiled nearby.
"MEOOOOW!" It was a streak of lightning, razor claws slashing down. Despite being a venomous serpent, Moc wasn't as agile as a feline and nearly had her scales shredded.
But the cat had forgotten whose territory this was.
"Grrrr!"
A black blur intervened. Ki. With overwhelming power, Ki clamped his jaws onto the mutant cat's throat. The dry snap of a breaking spine echoed through the room. The cat gave a few desperate spasms before going limp.
Thien Anh nodded in satisfaction, holstering the handgun he had been leveling at the cage. "Sanity intact. Only the feral instincts and physical prowess are amplified. Good."
...
Back in the bunker's kitchen, Thien Anh placed the glowing heart on the cutting board. It was the size of a washbasin, the muscle fibers a deep ruby red, radiating a strange, pulsing warmth.
"Raw or cooked? Nod for cooked."
Ki and Moc simultaneously shook their heads vigorously, tongues flickering to lick their jowls.
Thien Anh smirked. "Sorry. Chef's choice."
He wasn't about to gamble with alien parasites or unknown bacteria. He sliced the heart into thin medallions, pan-searing half to a medium-rare finish and stewing the rest with his stock of traditional herbs.
Strangely, even under high heat, the meat slices emitted a faint pink glow. An intoxicating aroma wafted up, making Thien Anh's stomach growl in protest.
The feast began.
The trio fell upon the food like starving wolves. The Magma Tiger's meat was firm and springy, its flavor a rich, melting sweetness that dissolved on the tongue, followed by a wave of warmth that surged through their limbs. The exhaustion from the previous night's battle evaporated instantly.
"Delicious!" Thien Anh muttered, chewing a large piece. But when he reached for the next slice, the plate was already empty.
Ki and Moc were licking the ceramic bone-dry, staring at his portion with wide, shimmering eyes.
Whack!
Thien Anh flicked Ki on the head and tapped Moc's forehead.
"Dream on, kids. Everyone eats their own share. I've still got an old soul to keep alive."
Despite the scolding, he ended up sharing a few more scraps. Watching them eat with such gusto, the assassin's cold gaze softened. In this mad world, this meal was perhaps the only shred of peace left.
...
After the meal, Thien Anh pulled out the nine-colored pearl to examine it.
"Wasted just sitting there. Might as well be a ceiling light."
He hung the pearl in the center of the living area. The light it emitted was gentle and ethereal, shimmering like a captured aurora.
Thien Anh turned on the TV. The news was a relentless scroll of doom: acid rain, floods, plagues, and the government's emergency evacuation orders toward Ai Dan City. Noi Ha had officially become a Dead Zone.
"To hell with them."
Thien Anh clicked the TV off. He sprawled out on the sofa, using Ki's warm belly as a pillow while clutching Moc—cool as a living jade bolster—in his arms.
Ring... Ring...
The chime of a phone shattered the silence. An unknown number, but he knew exactly who it was. An old "friend," the kind who only called when they needed a hand to pull a trigger or a pocket to borrow from.
Snap!
Thien Anh removed the SIM card, broke it in half, and tossed it into the trash. "There's no room for social calls in this world anymore."
Drowsiness hit him fast, heavy as a potent sedative. Likely the effect of the mutated meat. Thien Anh drifted into the deepest sleep he had ever known.
...
Thien Anh opened his eyes.
The room was pitch black.
Strange. I remember hanging that pearl up.
He sat up, reaching for a light switch. But the moment the thought "I need light" flickered in his mind, the orb on the ceiling flared to life.
It was no longer a chaotic nine-colored haze, but a pristine, brilliant white light—bright as the midday sun yet oddly gentle on the eyes. The entire bunker was bathed in radiance.
"What is this? Motion sensors?"
Thien Anh squinted, feeling the light not just illuminating the room, but permeating his very flesh. It brought a sense of invigoration, a surge of vitality. Every ache, every bit of fatigue—even his old scars—seemed to hum with joy.
He stood up, intending to take the pearl down for inspection. As his hand touched it, the light immediately softened, shifting to a mellow, pale gold like moonlight.
"A treasure... a genuine treasure," Thien Anh whispered. He turned around to wake Ki and Moc to show off his discovery. But the words died in his throat. His body froze. His assassin's instincts screamed a red alert.
Before him, on the familiar sofa, Ki and Moc were nowhere to be found. In their place lay two alien, magnificent creatures.
One was a beast of pure, abyssal black, as imposing as a stone Guardian Lion from an ancient temple, its fur shimmering with a cold, metallic sheen. And coiled beside it was a creature covered in translucent jade-green scales, with two tiny horns—resembling those of a dragon—sprouting from its head.
Thien Anh took a step back, his right hand instinctively reaching for the dagger on his thigh as cold sweat broke out.
"What the hell... are you things?"