Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Chapter 107: Rufus Hates Needles

​Five minutes later, the massive, matte-black G-Wagon rumbled out of the estate gates, its engine raving with a deep, militaristic authority as it hit the winding mountain roads.

​Inside the spacious cabin, April and Nat occupied the wide leather back seats. Rufus had immediately claimed the space between them, his paws planted firmly against the door panel as he pressed his snout right against the cracked glass of the window.

His mouth was wide open, his pink tongue lolling out as he huffed happily at the rushing mountain air, looking exactly like a standard, everyday canine experiencing the pure bliss of a car ride.

​April completely ignored the domestic scenery. She already had her phone held tightly in both hands, her thumbs flying across the glass interface in a fierce, aggressive rhythm.

​The colorful blocks of Winecraft flared to life, but her expression was dangerously cold. While she had been offline dealing with her catastrophic hangover, some faceless, low-tier digital peasant had actually managed to breach her secondary defense tower and pillage her automated iron reserves.

She did not like it. In fact, she was currently code-red furious. Her base was a prototype for her future real-world fortress, and allowing a breach—even a simulated one—was a severe violation of her safety protocols.

She had to crush them.

​Nat slouched deeply into the plush leather beside her, stretching his long legs out with a content sigh.

He turned his head, his eyes tracking the chaotic speed of her thumbs as she ruthlessly launched a counter-offensive raid against the offender’s digital coordinates.

A small, almost inaudible laugh vibrated through his thick chest. She was a complete anomaly—a terrifyingly accurate oracle who treated a pixelated block game like she was fighting a war room.

​As his chuckling faded, Nat slowly lifted his head, his gaze shifting directly to the rearview mirror. His chaotic, predatory eyes narrowed beneath his dark shades, locking onto Samuel’s reflection with a silent, darkly hostile glare.

​Samuel met his gaze in the glass without a single flinch, his eyes entirely freezing behind his lenses as he steered the heavy vehicle down the ridge with mechanical precision.

The unspoken animosity between the front seat and the back seat was thick enough to suffocate the cabin, but April was far too locked into rebuilding her virtual stone walls to care.

​The private veterinary clinic was tucked away in an exclusive, gated sector of the lower commercial district.

It catered strictly to the lineage families and their high-priced exotic pets, ensuring absolute anonymity and zero media interference.

​Samuel brought the G-Wagon to a stop in the underground bay, immediately stepping out to open April’s door. Nat hopped out from the other side, his boots echoing as they landed on the floor and he stretched his neck.

​Rufus bounced out of the backseat with a light, graceful leap, his ears perked and his tail wagging slightly as he sniffed the sterile, clean scent of the concrete floor.

He followed April through the automated glass doors of the clinic, his majestic silver-and-black coat drawing the immediate, wide-eyed stares of the elite reception staff.

​"Welcome, Miss," the head veterinarian, a sharp-looking man in a pristine white lab coat, said as he hurried out from the primary examination room.

Samuel had informed the clinic before they arrived, ensuring the clinic was fully cleared of other clients so as to avoid the inconvenience of them staring at Nat or spreading rumors about April’s visit.

There were already rumors about her being the woman of powerful elites who were trying to win her favor. He could not afford to cause her any form of inconveniences.

"Mr. Reed’s office informed us you were bringing in a highly unique, specialized breed." The vet stated. "If you could just bring him right this way to Table One..."

​Rufus trotted into the bright, stainless-steel examination room with absolute, unbothered pride.

He hopped onto the large, elevated metal table without even being asked, sitting down with his chin held high, looking every bit like an untouchable, majestic beast.

​"Excellent temperament," the vet murmured, pulling out a specialized digital scanner to check his vitals. "Heart rate is remarkably strong... bone density metrics are unprecedented for a standard German Shepherd lineage. I guess that’s why he’s a specialized, unique breed." He stated, brushing the dog’s fur and Rufus lifted his chin in absolute pride. "He is in absolute peak physical condition."

​April stood near the wall, her arms crossed over her gray sweater as she watched the evaluation. Of course he’s in peak condition, she thought. He’s a mythical beast.

​"Now, I was informed that this breed is a military grade," the vet continued. "And according to the standard registration protocols for military-grade or restricted imports," the vet continued, turning around to open a glass cabinet, "we just need to administer a routine booster and implant a standard tracking microchip behind the shoulder blade. It will only take a second and won’t hurt at all."

​The moment the vet turned back around holding a long, glittering steel syringe with a thick, ominous needle, the entire atmosphere inside the room violently shifted.

​Rufus’s golden eyes sharply locked onto the glittering metal. The majestic, proud posture vanished in an instant.

His large ears flattened completely against his skull, his lips pulled back to expose a row of terrifyingly sharp, white teeth, and a deep, low, earth-shaking growl began to vibrate through the stainless-steel table.

​As it turned out, the world’s rarest, most dangerous military canine... A mystical beast for that matter... absolutely detested needles.

​"Oh... steady boy," the vet stammered, his face instantly turning entirely pale as he took a frantic step backward, his hand slightly shaking. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from the dog was enough to make a trained professional’s survival instincts scream.

"What’s gotten into him?" Nat asked.

​Rufus didn’t just growl. He aggressively scrambled backward on the metal table, his claws scratching loudly against the steel as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the syringe as possible, looking directly to April with a look of profound, wide-eyed betrayal as if to say, I accepted your luxury fruit asset, gave you my blessings, and you repay me with puncture tools? Evil human.

​April smiled awkwardly. Her usual blank, unbothered expression completely faltered for a second. This dog... Was it genuinely judging her already?

​I didn’t agree to this aggression, Rufus, she thought back at him, feeling a rare wave of embarrassment at his defiance. Seriously, what’s there to be scared about needles?

​"Step back," April flatly commanded the trembling veterinarian, her voice immediately snapping the room’s chaotic volume down.