Morning started like it always did. Rain on the windows, too light to really matter but loud enough to be annoying. Han Seojin sat near the back wall of the gym, hoodie up, hands in his pockets, earbuds in but not playing anything. Everyone else was buzzing.Today was Bonding Day.A national holiday, basically. The one day every student looked forward to more than graduation. You went in, stood before the Bestia Crystal, and came out with your first contracted monster. It was supposed to be the start of your real life. The system always said that.[Initiating First Bonding Ceremony.][Welcome to the BestiaCore.]He'd heard it before. Four times, in fact. That was the maximum number of attempts allowed under the youth program. This was his final shot."Okay, Class A3, line up," barked Instructor Seo. "IDs ready, BestiaCore visible, let's go. Don't forget to smile for the cameras if you get something above C-rank."They lined up fast. People were practically bouncing in place.The first

The ceiling split with a roar of grinding stone and magic backlash. Light — real sunlight — spilled through the cracks above as the dungeon, layer by layer, unraveled into ruin.Fenrir didn't wait.He leapt toward the sky like he belonged in it.Chunks of floating rubble spiraled past them, glowing faintly from residual dungeon energy. Debris twisted downward in slow arcs, catching the rising wind as the seal between realms fully broke.Seojin squinted against the light, one arm up to shield his face. Cold air blasted past them as they soared higher. He could see scaffolding far below now — a clearing filled with broken ground, magi-steel pylons, and blinking hazard lights."There are people down there," Seojin muttered, eyes widening.Fenrir didn't respond. His body tensed.And then he spoke, voice low and resonant."Learned this one from the frost giants. Arrogant things. But they knew how to survive a fall."A glowing rune flared beneath them — pale silver, spiraling in shape, almo

Evening settled over Seoul like cooling metal. Neon blinked through the twilight. The traffic roared and pulsed, crowding the sidewalks with tired workers and glowing eyes from stray beasts perched on rooftops.Han Seojin walked with his hands in his pockets and his thoughts turned down low. His legs ached. He hadn't eaten since the school cafeteria, and even then he'd barely touched his tray.His stomach twisted. It had been hours since he'd come out of that collapsed dungeon. Hours since he'd been cleared, scanned, questioned, and released with nothing but a weird cheque for his trouble.He spotted a noodle bar tucked between a VR pod parlor and a pawn shop. It didn't look like much. Yellow signage, half the letters flickering out. But the smell—salty broth, fried oil, steam—dragged him in.Inside, it was cramped but warm. Plastic stools. The wall fan barely worked. A tiny old lady ran the counter.He slid into a corner seat and ordered quietly. Just one bowl of ox bone broth ramen.

Seojin woke before his alarm. Not jolted or groggy, just there, awake, eyes open to the faint blue of early morning threading through the blinds.The apartment was still. The hum of the fridge, the occasional thump of a pipe, but otherwise… silence.He sat up, dragging the blanket off his legs. His uniform, freshly ironed, hung on the back of his door. Next to it, draped carefully on the same hook, was the jacket Mirae had given him.Black. Sleek. A little big in the shoulders, but it carried a weight he didn't want to take off.The insignia on the back — a white fang curled like a crescent moon — caught the early light just barely. It looked like it was breathing with him. Below it, stitched in faded thread across the sleeve:OBSIDIAN FANG: FIGHT WITH TEETHHe ran his fingers over it once. Then twice."I look stupid, don't I," he muttered to no one.From the rug near his closet, a familiar grumble stirred.Fenrir stretched lazily, his smaller form barely as tall as a beagle, but some

The truck’s engine rumbled low, a steady hum that vibrated through the metal floor. Crates and boxes, haphazardly stacked, shifted with every turn, their wooden edges scraping faintly against each other. Seojin sat cross-legged in the back, his shoulder pressed against a crate marked with the Obsidian Fang emblem, a white fang curled like a crescent moon. The air was warm, thick with the smell of oil and dust, and the narrow windows let in slivers of fading sunlight. Across from him, Yuna sprawled on her back, one leg kicked up on a crate, her phoenix, Pyra, perched delicately on her shoulder. The bird’s ember-lit feathers cast a soft, flickering glow, painting the truck’s interior in hues of orange and gold.Seojin’s fingers traced the edge of his guild jacket, the black fabric still feeling foreign on his shoulders. He wasn’t used to this, any of it. Not the jacket, not the guild, not the weight of Fenrir’s presence, even if the wolf was tucked away in his BestiaCore for now. The la