Natalie urged, "Keep going, Lucky!" The dog stayed frozen, her chest heaving as she panted, her eyes darting away from her. Natalie cupped Lucky's head and tilted it toward her. "I'm talking to you. Don't pretend you didn't hear me. Keep moving!" Lucky slid her gaze sideways, stubbornly avoiding her owner's eyes. If she didn't see her, then she didn't have to listen to her orders. Ignorance was survival. "If you don't bring the ball back, then I'll cancel your next meal." Lucky snapped her head toward her owner. She was stunned and wounded by the order. Cancel a meal? That threat was a crime against animal. Natalie laughed hard and flicked her finger against her forehead."Don't act dumb with me. You sneaky little mutt, you understand every word. Go get the ball. If you don't, then no dinner." Lucky groaned like a sulking child, dragged her paws across the dirt, and finally trudged over to fetch the ball. After several more throws, her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed, tongue hanging low, and refused to rise. Natalie looked at her slumped body and knew she had reached her limit. She handed her water, then quietly logged the time. That would mark her endurance baseline. From this point on, she would push her little by little, taking one step further each day. But with her stocky build, overheating was always a risk. Long sessions weren't safe, so she'd have to tread carefully. She pulled out her notebook and sketched a precise training plan. Safety first, then intensity.Once Lucky was resting, she began her own workout. She warmed up, stretched her joints, then launched into a 20 minute muscle routine. After that, she shifted into combat drills. An hour and a half later, drenched in sweat, she finally stopped. Wiping her face, she strolled over to tease her dog. Lucky had been sprawled out for more than an hour and still looked lifeless. She rubbed her head gently. "Come on, girl. This is for your own good. One day when the world is full of danger, when mutated creatures crawl out of the dark, I'll need you strong by my side." Lucky rolled her eyes and deliberately turned away. To her, this wasn't play. This was punishment.She shifted her back to Natalie in silent protest. Natalie scowled at her defiance and gave her another sharp flick. Lucky let out a sharp yelp, then instantly straightened, alert and obedient. "That's more like it," she said. "Now, do you still want dinner or not?" Dinner? Her tail thrashed wildly, and a goofy grin spread across her face. Natalie chuckled. "Pathetic," she said with a shake of her head. She rose to prepare her food. "Eat up. Tomorrow we stick to the same routine." Lucky muttered a low grumble but surrendered. She didn't know what "dangerous world" meant or why strength mattered. All she knew was that if Natalie wanted it, then it must matter. For all her attitude, she was still a dog, and loyalty was in her bones. She shoved her face into the bowl and devoured the meal as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. Natalie stroked her head warmly as she ate. She used to ration her food, worried Lucky would balloon into a fat little pig. But Braxton's words earlier had made her reconsider. So what if Lucky got massive? She liked it that way. The bigger, the better. She hoped Lucky would grow into the size of a wild hog. It was much better than being a lapdog. If animals could mutate, then she wanted her dog to mutate too. Bigger meant stronger, and stronger meant safer.No one would try to attack them. She wanted Lucky to become the fiercest bulldog anyone had ever seen. No one would dare cross them. That night, she not only gave her extra food but also slipped in more protein to help build muscle, not just fat. As Lucky ate with delight, Natalie grabbed one of her own prepped meals from her storage space. She had pulled pork, lamb steak, Caesar salad, a bowl of chicken soup, and some quinoa. Once she finished, she stepped back into her storage space to check on the echinacea she had planted earlier. Her last attempt had shown that plants inside the mansion grew at double speed. By now, the seeds should have sprouted. She hurried to the field, her chest buzzing with anticipation. The sprouts had pushed through the dirt, but they were already dead—gray, shriveled, and rootless. Natalie froze. What on earth is this? She crouched down, brushing the soil with her fingers, and found a thin crust of white salt. The seedlings had withered in droves, their roots burned away. Her brows furrowed. Why? The only difference this time was that she had planted more seeds across a larger area. Everything else was the same. She had even been more meticulous this time around. Last time she tossed the seeds into the soil carelessly. This time she had followed the guide and added fertilizer properly. So what went wrong? Is it the fertilizer? But no. She had checked the type and dosage twice. Everything matched the manual. Mistakes shouldn't have been possible.