Twilight bled across the sky—crimson, suffocating, wrong.
Smoke coiled upward in thick, choking waves, staining the heavens like a filthy canvas. The dying sun hung low, dim and swollen, like the fading pupil of a man on his last breath, watching helplessly over the inferno below.
This had once been the Broken Fang Tribe.
Now, it was nothing but ruin—flames devouring what little remained.
"Run! Head for the Blackwood Forest!"
"Mama! Where are you?!"
"For the tribe—!"
Voices shattered into chaos. Steel met flesh. Screams tangled with battle cries and the desperate sobs of children, weaving together into a grim elegy of annihilation.
Colin ran.
He ran blindly, wildly—like prey that had forgotten how to think.
At eighteen, he should have stood tall among his kind. But as a half-blood—wolf and human—his frame was thin, stunted. The silver hair on his head was unremarkable, but the wolf ears hidden beneath it betrayed him. They drooped now, lifeless, as if burdened by shame.
"Mongrel."
The word seemed carved into his bones.
Smoke scorched his lungs with every breath. His feet stumbled over broken tents, over bodies—warm, cold, he didn't know. He didn't dare look.
Fear clutched his heart like a frozen hand.
He only wanted one thing—
To live.
"Gru!"
The scream tore through the chaos.
Colin turned instinctively—and froze.
There, forced back against the shattered remains of a wooden frame, stood Gru—the tribe's strongest warrior. The man who could crush a black-furred boar with his bare hands.
Blood soaked his chest. The wound was deep enough to glimpse bone.
Still, he roared, swinging his stone axe in a desperate final stand.
Opposite him stood a knight clad in black iron.
Silent.
Immovable.
His blade flashed.
Fast—too fast.
Gru's strike cut through empty air.
Then—
A cold arc of steel.
A wet sound.
The axe slipped from Gru's fingers, clattering uselessly against the ground.
His body went rigid.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the sword buried in his chest.
His lips parted, as if to speak—but only blood came.
The knight withdrew his blade.
A crimson spray painted the air.
Gru collapsed.
Just like that.
Gone.
A memory flickered through Colin's mind—
Gru, days ago, kicking him into the dirt, snatching away his food.
"Mongrels should eat mud!"
Now that same man lay lifeless, reduced to nothing.
A deeper chill crept into Colin's bones.
If even Gru could die so easily...
What chance did he have?
"Over there! One got away!"
The shout snapped him back.
Two human soldiers were already closing in.
Run.
The instinct screamed louder than thought.
Colin dove toward a collapsed tent, squeezing himself beneath the charred remains. He curled up tightly, forcing even his breath to quiet.
Footsteps approached.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Each step felt like it pressed directly onto his chest.
"Come out, you filthy wolf cub!"
Rough hands tore the debris away.
Firelight flooded in—
And with it, two faces.
One was twisted with scars, his grin cruel and eager, like a predator savoring its prey. The other, younger, stood beside him—expressionless, eyes cold and distant.
"Ha. A wolf cub indeed." The scarred man's gaze lingered on Colin's ears, and his smile widened. "And a runt at that. A mongrel, huh?"
Colin trembled violently.
He tried to speak—to beg—but only broken wheezes escaped his throat.
"Boss, hurry it up," the younger one said flatly. "We still have others to chase."
"What's the rush?"
The kick came without warning.
Pain exploded through Colin's stomach. His body folded, breath knocked out of him as bile surged up his throat.
"I like hearing them scream before they die," Scarface chuckled, grinding his boot into Colin's back. "Come on—scream for me."
Colin couldn't.
Every breath felt like knives in his ribs.
The man grew bored. He drew his knife—not to kill, but to toy.
The blunt side slammed into Colin again and again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Pain blurred into numbness.
His vision dimmed.
Warmth drained from his limbs, replaced by creeping cold.
So this is it…
Discarded. Forgotten.
Just like the sick wolves in the tribe.
No.
No—
I don't want to die.
I won't die like this!
Something deep inside him ignited.
A desperate, ferocious will—raw and unyielding—erupted from his soul like a breaking dam.
And then—
Something answered.
[Where… am I?]
A foreign voice.
[It hurts—my head—]
[This isn't my body… Wolf ears? A tail? My name is… Colin?]
[No. That's wrong. I'm Lin Yue. I was crossing the street… that truck—]
Two minds collided.
Memories clashed like storms—tearing, merging, devouring one another in chaotic fusion.
Colin's body jerked.
In his bloodied eyes, something flickered—
Awareness.
Shock.
Something not of this world.
Did I… transmigrate?
And into this?
A nightmare where death waits at the first breath?
Before the chaos within him could settle—
A voice.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Absolute.
[Survival instinct detected.]
[Killing intent detected.]
[Compatibility confirmed.]
[Binding in progress…]
[Binding complete.]
[Killing System activated.]
The words etched themselves into his very soul.
Outside—
The scarred soldier grinned, flipping his blade, ready to end it.
He never noticed—
That the eyes of the dying wolf cub beneath him…
Had changed.