Chapter 15: Awakening the Spirit

The basement was bathed in pale gray light, illuminating every corner. After a moment, the glow withdrew, and the figure of the little white fox reappeared.

Yet now, the fox stood stock-still, eyes widened and utterly devoid of their former spirit, as though it had become a lifelike, exquisite work of art.

Bruce waved his hand, and the fox fell before Charles. Bruce continued, “Now comes the most crucial step: Awakening the spirit!”

Charles drew a deep breath, fully aware of the situation he was in. No matter what means his opponent possessed, no matter whether the little fox had truly lost all consciousness, he had no choice but to obey.

With a thought, he guided energy from the source crystal, his hands tracing an intricate trajectory. Lines of gray and white intertwined, weaving and winding through the air—converging, circling back, meandering, and finally linking together to form a tiny, extraordinary seed of gray and white.

This was an Awakening Rune, designed to restore a totem’s intelligence and former instincts, rather than turning it into a mere puppet.

The seed fell silently onto the fox’s brow, merging without a sound—and then nothing happened. Had he failed?

“Hmm, your Awakening Rune seems a little off,” Bruce frowned, shaking his head with a touch of resignation. “No matter. For a beginner, you’ve done quite well. You can try again in the future.”

“What about the little fox?” Charles asked, dazed. He hadn’t expected to fail so easily.

“It’s only a beast. A failed awakening means its consciousness has been wiped away—it’s dead. What remains is just an empty shell. Leave it aside for now. Let me teach you how to choose a better totem.” Bruce’s tone was indifferent; the life of the fox meant nothing to him.

“Yes, I was too impatient,” Charles lowered his head, afraid his true feelings would be noticed.

Those unbelievable abilities, the way Bruce had so casually made him manifest the inheritance factor, and the single demonstration of the Awakening Rune—everything pointed to one thing:

Bruce had never intended to let him possess a totem.

Boom!

A tremendous noise came from overhead. Before Charles could ask, Bruce said with utter calm, “Ignore it. Ordinary people can’t see through my spiritual barrier.”

“Yes, teacher.” Charles forced himself to ignore the growing chaos above, already suspecting Marcus was involved.

After all, he’d faced a deadly crisis just yesterday, and now he’d hurried to this place. It was only natural Marcus would be concerned enough to look for him.

What unsettled Charles most was Bruce’s tone and expression—no different from when he spoke of the fox.

A chill ran through him. It meant that in Bruce’s eyes, ordinary people—even warriors—were nothing more than ants, to be crushed at will.

Bruce did not see them as his kin.

Boom!

At that moment, the entire basement shook, as if an earthquake had struck. Charles saw Bruce’s expression shift abruptly from indifference to a seething hatred.

“Who are you, really?” A familiar voice called from above—Marcus. Charles instantly recognized him, but what made his heart race was the weakness in Marcus’s voice, broken and feeble, as though he had suffered grievous wounds.

Above him, Marcus struck out with a fist, but not only did he fail to touch his opponent’s clothes, it was as though he’d struck a wall of steel. His fist shattered instantly, his arm broken, his entire body rocked by the impact.

A casual wave from Bruce sent Marcus flying, crashing into the wall with such force that a deep dent appeared.

Two guards rushed to help, only to be thrown back by some invisible force. They slammed into the walls and did not rise again.

The scene was so far beyond Marcus’s comprehension that for the first time in years, he showed true fear.

But Bruce didn’t spare him a glance. Instead, he walked to the corner of the living room, traced a series of gestures with his hands, and the wall before him silently disintegrated, revealing a pitch-black tunnel.

“Who are you?” Marcus asked weakly. He hadn’t realized, after all their searching, that the basement entrance had been hidden right before their eyes—completely invisible to them.

He felt on the verge of madness. Everything that had happened today defied understanding. As a high-ranking officer, he could have slaughtered a hundred ordinary soldiers, but now he couldn’t even see how his opponent attacked.

Before his eyes, Bruce performed another series of complex gestures. Suddenly, a massive, crimson-scaled lizard appeared, stretching across the room.

The giant lizard roared, spitting a gout of red flame from its mouth that poured into the basement tunnel.

Boom!

The entire house collapsed under the onslaught. Marcus fought desperately to escape, the building crashing down behind him.

He stared in disbelief as Bruce emerged from the rubble, utterly unscathed; even his crimson robes were spotless, untouched by dust.

Boom!

The ground shook violently. In the living room, the earth and the ruins above exploded outward, leaving a vast crater. From within, a figure in black robes leapt out.

“Cassius, I never thought you’d chase me all the way here!” Bruce stood atop the rubble, glaring furiously.

Cassius’s blood-red cloak billowed in the wind. Beside him crouched a nearly two-meter-tall scarlet lizard, its massive three-meter tail swinging lazily, sweeping aside chunks of wall as if they were paper.

Bruce quickly formed gestures with his hands, summoning a similar red lizard before him—though it was clearly much smaller, the difference obvious at a glance.

“Hah, Bruce, to think you were once among the top ten geniuses of the organization, and now look at you. Hand over the artifact, and I’ll let you die with a whole corpse!” Cassius sneered. “Your fire lizard hasn’t even completed its evolution. Have you forgotten how to nurture it?”

“Damn you! If you hadn’t forced me into this, would I be hiding in this godforsaken wasteland?” Bruce snarled, his face twisting with hatred.

“Enough talk. Die!” Cassius commanded his lizard to attack. Bruce’s own beast leapt to meet it, unyielding.

The two giant lizards roared as they collided, crashing together like heavy trucks.

In the basement, Charles was left reeling by the recent explosions, his ears ringing and his vision spinning.

When he regained his senses, he was stunned to find that the ceiling had vanished, and above him stretched blue sky and clouds.

Buzz!

A faint sound rose behind him, and suddenly a blinding gray-white light flared. Charles whirled around. It was the little white fox, aglow.

From the center of its brow, a beam of gray-white light burst forth, coursing over its entire body—and in an instant, the fox seemed to come back to life.

The fox’s eyes slowly opened, and it was fully revived.

At the same time, the tuner interface appeared, and in the small box beneath the attributes, a miniature three-dimensional image of the white fox floated into view. As he focused his mind upon it, a line of information surfaced quietly:

“Mutant Moonlight Fox: Main Totem. Not yet evolved, can improve, success rate of evolution 10%, cost: 5 evolution points.
Abilities: Fox’s Allure, Rapid Speed.”