Chapter 9: A Dog’s Doubt

  Kwon had known discipline and duty since the day he was born. Bred and raised within the military, he was trained to be more than just a dog—he was a soldier. For seven years, he had undergone rigorous training, molded into an adaptable scout dog. He and his fellow canines were handpicked for their resilience, trained to detect danger in the most unpredictable conditions. They searched for the wounded, sniffed out deadly traps, unearthed hidden weapon caches, and warned their human companions of approaching threats. Their service was so valuable that the government poured resources into their training, recognizing their unwavering loyalty and efficiency.

  But Kwon’s days as an active soldier had long passed. At ten years old, he was considered retired, granted a peaceful life in the care of one of the officers he had once served alongside. He no longer had to march into battle, no longer had to endure the blistering heat of warzones or the bitter cold of sleepless nights on duty. Instead, he was loved by his humans and his children, given food, shelter, and companionship. It was a life he found fulfilling, despite its hardships.

  However, peace did not last forever. One day, everything went terribly wrong. His owner—the man who had taken him in—was gone. The scent of his Owner had faded, replaced by an eerie absence that left only the children behind. There was no need for words; he could feel it in the way the household grew quieter, the way fear began to linger in the air. He could see it in the children’s eyes—the worry, the sadness, the desperation. Something had happened. Something terrible.

  After the impact incident, he could sense the world was changing slowly. When he and the children were moved to the safe haven, he still could feel danger around him.

  Then, one day, the children ran.

  Kwon did not understand at first, but his instincts screamed at him the moment they left the house. He had lived his entire life under the protection of a home or within the safety of the military, and yet the moment they stepped beyond the threshold, dread clawed at his heart. He hesitated. The outside world—something about it had changed. His body tensed as his animal instincts urged him to turn back, to return to the familiarity of his home. But how could he? The children—his provider—were running into the unknown, alone.

  And he could not abandon them.

  So, Kwon followed.

  He remembered people shouting as they escaped—faces of strangers filled with concern and alarm. But there was no time to stay. He stayed close to Mira and Kai, watching as they navigated through ruined streets, their breaths ragged with exhaustion and fear. The world outside was nothing like what he remembered. Cities lay in ruin, their towering structures reduced to skeletal remains. Strange, untrustworthy people lurked in the shadows, eyes hollow, movements unpredictable. The ground itself bore scars of destruction, leading them to a massive crater.

  The first time they stood at the edge of that abyss, Kwon’s instincts screamed louder than ever. Danger. Everywhere. He lowered his body, ears flattening as he scanned the horizon. But nothing came. Instead, he watched as Kai approached the crater’s edge, his small hands reaching out toward something within the rubble. A rock. The boy clutched it close before slipping it into his bag, and in that instant, the air shifted. The oppressive weight of danger lifted as if whatever had been lurking in the unseen shadows had vanished.

  Kwon did not understand, but he trusted his senses. And so, he remained close to the children, guiding them, protecting them. He led them away from threats, helped them find shelter when needed, and kept them warm in cold nights.

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  Yet, there was one thing that gnawed at him. Throughout their journey, he kept hearing his Owner’s name spoken between Mira and Kai. Repeatedly. Longingly. Were they searching for him? If so, Kwon would help. He sniffed the air, trying to track his scent, but it was no use. No trace remained.

  Then, one day, something changed.

  They found a building. A massive structure, its insides shrouded in darkness and dust. As they explored its vast halls, Kwon’s nose caught something faint. Something familiar. His Owner’s scent—lingering, almost lost to time, but undeniably there. Could it be? Was the Owner here?

  Kwon stayed vigilant as the children scavenged the facility. He made sure they never wandered too far, his sharp eyes watching every movement. The place was filled with the scent of decay, of death, but he had seen such things before in his service. He did not let it deter him.

  Then, in the middle of the night, something changed.

  A scent unlike any other assaulted his nose. Oil. Iron. A wild, untamed stench. Kwon’s body tensed his instincts on high alert. He lifted his head, ears perking, and moved toward the source. Through a window, he saw it. A figure stood awkwardly in the dark, its posture unnatural. But Kwon knew. Whatever it was, it was not human.

  The smell alone told him everything.

  His fur bristled, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He turned sharply, shaking the children, waking them with urgency. He did not take his eyes off the creature. The more he stared, the more his body tensed, unease settling deep within his bones.

  Then, the lights flickered.

  For a split second, the creature’s gaze snapped toward him.

  Kwon reacted instantly. Before the children could even scream, he grabbed Mira’s sleeve with his teeth, yanking her toward the door. He pushed Kai forward, forcing them to run. He didn’t stop. He led them through the facility, away from that thing, away from the overwhelming wrongness that surrounded it.

  Behind them, the monster crashed into the room they had just been in. A loud bang echoed through the halls, followed by the shattering of glass and the splintering of furniture. Debris scattered, filling the air with dust and fragments. The sheer force of its entrance reminded him of a vehicle crashing, but he didn’t dare look back. There was no time. They had to keep running.

  They ran until they found shelter—a dark, cluttered room filled with abandoned equipment. Kwon pushed them toward the back behind some rubble and broken equipment. Then He stands in front of them. His body was rigid, muscles coiled. His heart pounded in his chest as he listened.

  Sounds of footsteps and dragging.

  The monster was coming.

  He braced himself, ready to lunge the moment it entered. But when the creature stepped into the light, Kwon froze.

  Its head was stitched together from multiple skins, its mouth a jagged tear that barely held together. Its presence radiated something deeply unnatural, something even he, who was in the military, could not comprehend.

  But before the monster could enter, the door slammed shut.

  The creature pounded against it, but Kwon did not move. He stayed alert, even as the sound of the pounding faded away. However, it was replaced with a voice. He snapped his head toward the source, but there was no person. Only a machine.

  Mira and Kai moved toward the terminal, whispering hurriedly. Kwon did not understand, but he stayed close. He trusted them. The way the voice interacts with the children seems friendly and sounds like a human. He also doesn't feel any malice from it. Maybe the other human can help them.

  But then another problem occurred. Kai's body was wracked with sickness.

  Panic seized Kwon. He whimpered, circling the boy, nudging him with his nose. Something was wrong. Mira, desperate, ran from the room. Kwon wanted to chase her, but she turned to him, eyes firm.

  “Stay.”

  He did not want to. Every part of him wanted to go, to protect her. But she had given a command. A command he had followed countless times before.

  So he stayed.

  Time stretched endlessly. Then—a sound. A deep, drumming noise. Kwon’s body snapped to attention. Something was happening. Something bad.

  He barked, pacing anxiously. He turned to the terminal, the machine that had spoken before. He barked again, urgently. He could feel the other person was sensing him. Then—finally—the door opened.

  Kwon bolted.

  He ran toward the sound, toward Mira. The monster was near. He could smell it.

  Without hesitation, he barked, drawing its attention. Then, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  The creature followed.

  And Kwon ran like he had never run before.