The forest floor in the Western region of the Sanctuary was no longer soil, but rather like a pile of bone powder from death.
Azril slowly rose, his body emanating an intimidating aura as he stood upright atop a pile of the shapeless corpses of strange creatures.
Blood of various colors—black, green, and deep blue—seeped between his bare toes. However, there was no look of disgust on his face. What remained was only a terrifying hollowness.
His steps, light yet certain, led him toward the carcass of an ancient creature resembling a giant stork that Azril had sliced into two perfect halves.
That creature, which was previously the ruler of the air in this region, was now nothing more than a heap of meat waiting to be plundered.
Azril extended his small hand. As soon as his palm touched the cold skin of the stork, the Stardust Veins within his body pulsed violently, demanding sustenance.
By force, Azril began to draw out the life essence remaining within the creature's cells. The air around him vibrated as dull silver energy vapor was sucked into the pores of Azril's skin.
The process was not beautiful. It was a pillaging.
The stork's flesh shriveled, withered, and finally crumbled into grey ash blown by the cold Sanctuary wind. All that remained was a skeletal frame that whitened instantly. Azril inhaled deeply, feeling that energy burn through his already congested veins.
"Hahahaha... So refreshing," he muttered as Azril's laughter broke out. His voice was hoarse, not sounding like the voice of an ordinary child. His eyes flashed a dim red behind the silver glow that was starting to become permanent.
"I need more... Even more to become strong," Azril said in his heart. "Only with this strength can I get out and survive."
His gaze shifted to the horizon in the West. The sky there was darker, as if even light was reluctant to enter. "Wait for me, you damn creatures," he hissed.
Without warning, Azril's body shot forward. The explosion of energy beneath his feet created a small crater.
He was no longer running; he seemed to glide or fly low at a speed that split the air.
Along the way toward the Mid-Western part, towering crystal hills blocked his path. However, instead of avoiding them, Azril charged right through.
BRAKK! DUARR!
He slammed his body into a crystal wall one meter thick. It was not Azril who shattered, but rather the crystals that broke into pieces.
Azril did this repeatedly, smashing obstacles with his head, his shoulders, and his hands. There was madness in every impact.
The deafening loneliness in the Sanctuary since he first arrived here had eroded the remnants of his sanity. He was no longer a child longing for home; Azril was a monster forging himself.
As he entered the Mid-Western zone, the atmosphere changed drastically. The air here was no longer cold, but piercing. It felt as if thousands of invisible needles were trying to pierce the pores of his skin and inject poison directly into the bone.
Azril hissed, the veins in his neck bulging, a sign of extraordinary pain. However, his expression remained ice-cold. Azril had been friends with pain since his first day here.
The view in front of him was a blend of heavenly beauty and hellish horror. A field of bones stretched wide, whitening under the dim light of the Sanctuary.
Between those bones grew incredibly beautiful ruby-red crystals, glowing like a throbbing heart.
Azril stopped in front of one of the largest crystals. He tried to touch it. The surface felt very smooth yet emitted an oppressive aura.
"So hard," he muttered softly.
Azril clenched his fist, then struck the crystal with all the power of the late-stage Star Crust Veins.
TING!
The sound of clinking metal was heard, but the crystal only cracked slightly.
Azril did not give up. Azril struck again. And again. And again. Until finally, the red crystal shattered into sharp, glistening fragments.
"This... can be thrown and used as a weapon," he thought. However, there was a problem. Azril had no place to carry it.
Azril glanced at his clothes which were nearly destroyed; the fabric was no longer able to cover his body which was slowly growing larger and sturdier.
Then, Azril realized something. His black hair was already very long, trailing past his waist and nearly touching the ground full of bone dust.
"Back then... how long did I sleep?" he asked the silence in an unclear tone of speech.
Faint shadows of when Azril fought with all his might against a two-headed creature appeared in his mind. Since then, time seemed to have lost its meaning.
Azril stroked his dirty and coarse hair, remembering how Lana, his Mother, used to rub his head when they were still in Sisa Village.
But now, this hair was no longer a memory, but a burden. With a single slash using a red crystal, Azril severed his last tie to childhood.
Now his hair was only shoulder-length, giving a wilder and more dangerous impression.
Azril did not throw away those long hair clippings. With dexterous fingers, Azril began to weave and roll that hair into an emergency pouch.
Azril put some of the sharpest red crystal pieces into it, then tied the hair pouch to his lower right waist.
After finishing, Azril stood up and looked around. Silent. Too silent.
"Why... is there not a single creature?" He thought suspiciously. Predators should be roaming in the Mid-Western region. However, as far as the eye could see, there was no movement.
There was only one explanation. Azril was already on the brink of the depths of the Western Sanctuary.
The place where the monsters Azril had encountered before—creatures Azril considered strong previously—did not even dare to set foot.
There was something mysterious and even stranger, much older, and full of question marks, waiting for him behind the black mist up ahead.
Azril smirked, revealing his fangs that were starting to grow. "Good. The stranger you are, the faster I become strong." Azril said, his voice now slowly becoming almost indistinct.
Azril then stepped forward, disappearing, swallowed by the mist of the Western depths, leaving a pile of bones and shattered crystals as silent witnesses to the passage of the predator.