In the lower reaches of the Bone Pits, under a hundred different bridges, pulleys, pipes and walkways of steel, a solitary form lay limp on its side, breathing slow and heavy.

Its fur, once remembered in fading memories as a light shade of gray, was now a sickly sheen of green and black, matted and glued together in squishy clumps by the toxic sludge it’d trudged through to find something to eat.

Its eyes, a beautiful shade of hazel-gold, were hazy and unfocused like faded glass. One of its ears was stuck flat to the top of its head by dried waste, and the other was twitching around, trying futilely to listen out for predators. Pus and brown-green chemical sludge would occasionally drip out of said ear, down its neck, and puddle on the floor one viscous drop at a time.

Its muzzle was marred by thin lined scars, infected and trying to scab over. Its nose was dry, unusable, unable to smell anything but the burning stench of waste and acid. Its lungs burned with every breath as if scrubbed with sandpaper. Fleas and ticks marred its numb body, draining it of life one day at a time.

An adventurous rat about the size of the canine’s leg wandered closer, curiously sniffing at a hind paw.

It opened its maw, ready to try and chew through skin-

And then a siren blared out from above, red light flooding the small corner, and the rats gathering around the canine’s limp form scattered, squeaking as they dived in rusty pipes or squeezed between shifting pulleys.

The red light shone down, illuminating the canine’s slowly shifting ribs and angular, starved frame. The animal moved a little, struggling to lift its head. Slowly, sluggishly, it rolled onto its belly, legs still limp under its body. Despite the incoming danger, it could barely muster enough strength in its cannibalized muscles to position its legs under its torso.

The thunderous booming of machinery and gears grew closer, and the canine slowly managed to lift itself up, legs shaking like twigs about to snap under pressure.

Slow, jerky steps carried it up the stone steps one at a time as the sounds of rushing liquid and shifting gears echoed down the tunnel. Mere moments after it dragged itself up the steps,a big portion of the metal walls in the back and front of the room slid upwards, a veritable tide of factory and two-legger waste rushing past, a river of filth.

The canine didn’t turn, stumbling forth. Pipes, latticework steel walkways over sheer drops hundreds of meters deep, and cobbled alleys flitting past in a fugue.

It was dying. It knew.

Too weak to hunt for food. Too weak to take it from others.

So it stumbled forth, a dragging specter of fur, skin and bone.

One paw after another, eyes blurry with tears. It was too weak to hold its neck up, snout almost touching the ground.

Green-gray smog covered everything around it as it walked, the factories above all venting their fumes into the pits, the smell forever etched into its sensitive nose. It might have been stumbling towards the unknown for minutes. Might have been days. It couldn’t tell. Eventually, the smog was left behind, and the orange-red artificial lights of the pits were exchanged for the soft yellow of light crystals.

It simply followed the sound of life, not wanting to die alone.

It walked until its shaking legs could take no more, and it stumbled before collapsing on its side.

Sounds filled its ear and movement filled its eyes, incomprehensible, directionless. It was too exhausted and lost to process anything.

As a two-legger walked through the alley, he paused, and moved his foot to slowly wedge under the canine’s frame, lifting its body effortlessly and quickly shoving it aside to lay against the alley wall. The two-legger shook his foot in disgust, then turned away.

“Fuckin’ fleabags everywhere...”

His footsteps faded.

Time passed.

People walked past it by the dozens, sparing it nothing more than a pitying glance at best, or a disgusted grimace at worst.

Unconsciousness consumed it.

When it woke up, the streets were emptier, shady figures in cloaks and metal facemasks being the only occasional passerby.

It didn’t move. It barely even breathed, uncomprehending eyes staring at the gray, squeaking creature sniffing at its snout.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A pang of pain shot through it as the tiny mouse decided to start its feast from its nose, and its malnourished jaws reflexively snapped open and shut with strength and speed borne of desperation, rage and fear.

For a few moments, the canine sat in silence as it kept its jaws clenched with whatever meager power it could muster, its taste buds too burned through to recognize the taste of copper as the mouse squirmed and twitched between its canines one last time.

Slowly, lethargically, the canine struggled to its feet, leaning liberally on the cobbled wall to its side. With great effort, it tilted its head back, and swallowed its first ever kill like a snake, not bothering to chew.

No sooner had gravity adequately assisted its weak muscles in moving its prey into its stomach, did it let its legs fold out from under it, sliding back down on its side against the wall.

Its eyes fluttered shut, ready to fall into another exhausted nap.

Without warning, it felt something shift and unlock inside its mind with an almost physical sensation.

Startled, its eyes shot open as it tried to get up, legs flailing and sliding across the ground for a moment as they buckled under its own weight, its body only raising an inch or two.

It stopped quickly and sat on the ground, swerving its head back and forth, eyes darting around the abandoned alleyway. After several moments of nothing, it relaxed.

Somewhere in the back of its mind, like a task put on hold, or an errant thought saved for later, something waited. Yet as much as the canine focused, it could not grasp the thought, nor understand where it came from.

The short burst of adrenaline faded, and with it, most of its energy. A wave of dizziness turned its mind to fuzz, and as it placed its head on the ground, its eyes slid shut once more, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time they did so.

-System Access Requirement Reached.

\\ Minimum Intelligence Threshold Reached.

\\ Secondary System Communication Method Activated.

\\ Language: Carmeran

\\ Initializing...

-Species: Wolf

-Name: None

-Racial Skills: [Pack Hunter], [Quick Learner], [Devourer]

-Acquired Skills:

You have gained the Passive Skill [Pain Resistance - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Infection Resistance - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Poison Resistance - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Corrosion Resistance - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Disease Resistance - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Restful Awareness - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Tough Skin - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Iron Stomach - Level 1]

You have gained the Passive Skill [Magic Resistance - Level 1]

- [Pain Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 17

- [Infection Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 7

- [Poison Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 12

- [Corrosion Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 4

- [Disease Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 4

- [Restful Awareness] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 2

- [Tough Skin] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 2

- [Iron Stomach] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 3

- [Magic Resistance] has Leveled Up. Level 1 → Level 4

-Acquired Traits:

Enduring (1 / 5): You have felt the chill of death multiple times, and survived. You are slightly tougher.