Rain came to Greywall City like an invading army.
It drummed against rooftops, flooded the gutters, and turned the narrow market streets into long veins of brown water. By evening most people had already hidden inside their homes, leaving only the smell of wet stone and the distant barking of kennel beasts.
Kian Vale was used to nights like this.
The clinic always felt lonelier when storms hit. The hanging lantern swayed above the counter, throwing tired yellow light over rows of cages where injured pets slept or whimpered softly. Milo had claimed his usual throne on the windowsill, watching the rain as if it were a personal performance arranged for his amusement.
Kian wiped his hands on a rag. "Last batch of spirit feed is done. Don't say I never worked hard for you freeloaders."
A one-legged Swift Hound thumped its tail in response. The rest of the beasts ignored him.
He smiled anyway.
This small, half-broken place was his entire world.
Old Mara had already gone upstairs to sleep, leaving Kian to close up. He was about to flip the wooden sign to CLOSED when the doorbell let out a weak, trembling chime.
At first he thought it was the wind.
Then the door pushed inward.
A dog stood on the threshold.
Not a proud hunting breed or a trained guard beast—just a muddy stray, ribs showing beneath tangled fur. One eye was cloudy white, the other a dull, exhausted brown. A deep claw mark crossed its side, half healed and badly infected.
It took two uncertain steps inside.
Then collapsed.
"Hey—!"
Kian dropped everything and rushed over. The floor was instantly stained with dirty rainwater as he slid to his knees beside the animal.
"You picked a bad night to travel, didn't you?"
The dog's breathing was shallow, each exhale carrying a soft whine. No collar, no brand mark—no sign it belonged to anyone.
Just another life the world had thrown away.
Milo hopped down from the windowsill and approached, sniffing once before sitting beside Kian like a lazy supervisor.
"Don't act like you're helping," Kian muttered while tearing a clean cloth into strips. "You'd run if this guy sneezed."
The cat flicked its tail.
Kian worked quickly, years in the clinic guiding his hands. He cleaned the wound, mixed a weak herbal paste, and tried to coax a few drops of water into the dog's mouth.
"Hang in there, buddy. You made it this far for a reason."
For a moment, he imagined what it would be like if this stray were his pet—if he, Kian Vale, could one day walk beside a loyal beast like the tamers in the inner district.
A foolish dream.
The Spirit Orb had already told him the truth.
Still, as his fingers brushed the dog's damp fur, something strange happened.
A warmth—faint but real—crawled up his palm.
Kian frowned. "Static?"
Then the world blinked.
DING!
The sound rang directly inside his head.
He jerked back so fast he nearly hit the counter. "What the—?"
Blue light unfolded in front of his eyes, forming clear, impossible letters.
> [Dragon Veins System Activated]
Host Identified: Kian Vale
Authority Granted: Bloodline Awakening
Kian stared.
He looked around the empty clinic, half expecting to see someone playing a prank. The only witnesses were a dying stray and a fat brown cat.
"I finally went crazy," he whispered.
The screen didn't disappear.
Instead, more text followed.
> System Restriction:
The host cannot create dragon blood from nothing.
Awakening is only possible if the target already contains traces of draconic ancestry.
His heartbeat grew louder.
"Draconic… ancestry?"
Another panel appeared.
> Scanning Target…
Species: Stray Canine
Condition: Critical
Hidden Trait: 0.02% Dragon Blood Detected
Status: Dormant
Awakening Chance: Extremely Low → Possible
Kian read the lines again.
And again.
"A stray dog… has dragon blood?"
The idea was ridiculous. Dragons were myths—ancient calamities from the Age of Ash. Even the royal families only claimed distant descent.
Yet the glowing words remained, patient and undeniable.
The dog whimpered, nudging his hand weakly.
Kian felt something twist in his chest.
All his life he had been told he was ordinary. That without a talented pet he would never stand among real tamers. That destiny had already chosen better people.
But right now, in this lonely clinic, a miracle was lying beneath his fingers.
He swallowed.
"If you're real… then prove it to me."
He placed his palm on the dog's head.
"Awaken the bloodline."
The world answered.
Crimson light burst from the dog's body like a sleeping sun finally opening its eyes.