As Azril began to pierce through the deepest mists of the western Sanctuary.
Azril finally set foot on the deepest point of the Western region. For a long time, from a distance, the West had been nothing but a stretch of thick darkness, as if even light itself was reluctant to stop there.
However, once his body crossed the boundary line separating the middle region and the inner region, the reality Azril encountered was exactly the opposite.
A soft, bright light, silvery-white in color, enveloped the entire area.
There was no light from the sky, no lamps; the light seemed to emanate from the air itself.
Azril blinked his eyes, trying to adapt to a place that was so contrast with the darkness Azril had just left behind.
Azril looked to the left and right, searching for the strange source of this phenomenon, but Azril found nothing. There was only a silence heavier than before.
Azril slowly lowered his body, sitting cross-legged on the ground that felt warm.
The ground was not rough; to Azril, it felt like fine crystal grains vibrating slowly atop that earth. Only a few moments after Azril fell silent, his mind began to spin wildly.
Isolation is a slow-acting poison.
Azril began to show strange behavior. Azril occasionally tilted his head, as if hearing voices that weren't actually there.
Azril laughed softly for no reason, then a second later his face turned gloomy. Azril had been alone for too long.
In this place where Azril stood which Azril himself did not know was named Sanctuary the law of time was a joke.
Seconds could feel like years, and decades could pass in a single breath. Azril did not know how long Azril had been trapped.
He did not know how many times the cells in his body had changed. He did not even know his age anymore.
All Azril knew was the hunger that had vanished, replaced by energy, and a thirst that was now satisfied by the blue vapor flowing within his silver blood.
Azril closed his eyes, trying to dig up memories that were increasingly fading. Azril remembered a small village... Remnant Village. Azril remembered a large, shady tree.
And Azril remembered a small falling star—a light that initially looked beautiful but instead dragged him into this beautiful hell.
"Mo... ther..."
The voice came out of his throat. So harsh, hoarse, and discordant.
Azril winced hearing his own voice. It did not sound like a human voice. It sounded like a raspy growl followed by strange words. Azril realized a bitter reality.
Azril had not spoken for far too long. The last time Azril had spoken at length was when he tried to chat with a peacock Azril encountered in the eastern region some time ago, or perhaps some years ago.
Tears fell past his thin cheeks. That sense of loneliness stabbed his heart deeper than any physical wound.
His gaze became vacant, piercing through the bright light in front of him. Within that void, a fragment of memory appeared.
Azril remembered the majestic figure Azril had seen in a previous vision. A figure who had the same name as him, Azril.
If he is me in the future... his mind thought with trembling hands. It means, at some point in the future, I managed to get out of here. I did not die here. I... I will become something greater.
That thin hope became new fuel for his nearly extinguished resolve.
Azril wiped his tears with the back of his right hand. If Azril wanted to become that figure, Azril could not just sit still and go mad.
Azril had to master what was inside of him.
Azril rose to his feet. Azril began to focus his entire attention on the pulse of bluish-purple energy throbbing within his veins. Azril remembered the weapons often carried by warriors in his world before. A sword.
Azril extended his right hand forward, his palm open. Azril imagined the blue vapor energy solidifying, lengthening, and hardening into a sharp blade of metal.
Zzzzt!
The first attempt was a total failure. The energy exploded slightly in his palm, evaporating into small nebula particles that flew beautifully around him. The particles sparkled like stardust before disappearing, swallowed by the light of the West.
Azril did not give up. Azril tried again. Failed. Again. Failed. Each time Azril tried, more nebula particles filled the air around him, creating a sight that was very aesthetic yet painful for his pride.
However, on the umpteenth attempt perhaps the hundredth or the thousandth something different happened.
The energy did not evaporate. The bluish-purple energy began to lengthen, flickering like a freezing flame, until it finally formed the silhouette of a sword.
The shape was not physical; the sword was transparent and had no solid mass. But, the sword had a very sharp aura. Its color was very subtle, a gradient between sky blue and deep nebula purple. Very beautiful, yet deadly.
Azril swung the energy sword. There was no heavy sound of slicing air, only a soft, soothing hum.
Azril knew, this sword would not cut trees physically, but Azril could feel that this sword would pierce through skin and directly destroy the energy core or nerves of the opponent Azril would face later. This was a soul sword, a sword born from his silence.
Seeing his success, a new ambition appeared in his head. Azril turned toward his empty left shoulder. The old wound that had long since closed was still a reminder of his weakness.
"If I can make a sword... why can't I make a hand?" he muttered in his heart, his voice a little clearer this time.
Azril began to concentrate his blue vapor energy into the center of his left shoulder. He imagined bone, muscle, and skin forming from the energy. Azril wanted to have a hand again.
However, controlling energy to become a form as complex as human anatomy was far more difficult than just a sword.
The energy sprayed out from his shoulder without direction, like a leaking water tap. Azril grimaced in pain. It felt like thousands of needles were trying to pierce his pores from the inside. Azril tried to balance his energy flow, calming the surge of blue vapor with steady breaths.
Failed. Failed again.
Every time Azril almost formed the structure of fingers, the energy dissolved into a blur. Azril began to break into a cold sweat. It turned out, creating something organic and integrated with the body required a level of power far above his current Step.
Maybe if I were stronger... maybe if I reach the next stage, I can have this hand back, he thought with panting breath.
To distract himself from his disappointment, Azril tried to perform another experiment. Azril imagined the energy coming out of his body becoming a long-range projection.
Azril closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the shape of a giant palm that could be moved from a distance. Azril imagined three giant palms hovering behind his back.
Azril let out a small shout, exerting all his remaining strength. From his back, the blue vapor energy erupted violently.
However, instead of three, only two giant palms managed to manifest. The palms were not perfect, the fingers still looked faint, but their size was enough to crush a large boulder.
With a single snap of his mind, both energy palms shot forward. They moved with extraordinary speed, splitting the air and directly piercing the thick mist that enveloped the deepest area of the Western region.
Wusshh
The sound produced left a trail of blue light in the air.
Azril panted, falling to his knees. The use of such massive energy drained his strength to the point of zero.
Yet, in the midst of his exhaustion, Azril smiled thinly. His eyes, which had been vacant, now began to hold a slight spark of life.
In the depths of this bright Western Sanctuary, Azril realized one thing. Azril was no longer the helpless boy who fell from the sky. Azril was a survivor who was shaping his own destiny with hands—even if those hands were currently still energy that was invisible.
Azril stared toward the mist that had been pierced by his attack earlier. Azril knew, the journey to get out was still very far, and Azril might spend many more years here. But now, he had a friend.
Not a human, not a peacock, but the blue vapor energy that faithfully accompanied him in his madness.
Azril closed his eyes, letting the Western light envelop his body, and sat cross-legged beginning to absorb the sanctuary energy to reach a higher Step.
Out there, the world might only turn for a moment, but here, Azril was building a legend that would shake the universe when Azril came out later.
Azril took a deep breath, and instantly the atmosphere in the deepest West vibrated.
The silver light that enveloped the area began to be sucked into his chest like water entering a drain hole.
Brugg....
A very strong energy pressure appeared from above Azril. The mists covering the inner western area of the Sanctuary began to vanish.
The energy began to strike Azril very hard; his silver blood began to leak from his body. Azril began to grit his teeth. The pressure was very painful, yet Azril continued to endure it.
Azril then focused his mind to keep trying to absorb that energy.
In his mind, Azril no longer saw darkness. He saw a river of blue vapor that now mixed with the light particles of the Sanctuary.
Every time Azril absorbed that energy, his bones made a cracking sound, a sign that his skeletal frame was being strengthened by force by the laws of nature existing there.
Azril was not just sitting. Azril was fighting his own destiny.
In his inner vision, Azril saw his old self, small and weak, slowly breaking down and being replaced by a new figure shrouded in an intimidating silver-blue aura.
This was the foundation toward a stronger Step, the stage where Azril was no longer just a human lucky to survive, but an entity beginning to understand the language of the universe